LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


PRESENTED  BY 

DR.    Sr  MRS.    HILMAR  0.    KOEFOD 


/ 

/ 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  ISABEL  LADY  BURTON 


ISABEL   LADY   BURTON 


THE    STORY    OF    HER    LIFE 


TOLD     IN     PART    BY    HERSELF 
AND    IN    PART    BY 

W.  H.  WILKINS 


WITH    PORTRAITS   AND   ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW   YORK 

DODD   MEAD  &  COMPANY 

1016 

.1* 


Copyright  1897 
BY  DODD  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 


(Sntbcrsitg 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON  CAMBRIDGE  USA 


ttd 

HER    SISTER 

MRS.    GERALD    FITZGERALD 
I   DEDICATE   THIS   BOOK 


PREFACE 


T  ADY  BURTON  began  her  autobiography  a  few 
-1 — '  months  before  she  died,  but  in  consequence 
of  rapidly  failing  health  she  made  little  progress  with 
it.  After  her  death,  which  occurred  in  the  spring  of 
last  year,  it  seemed  good  to  her  sister  and  executrix, 
Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  to  entrust  the  unfinished  manuscript 
to  me,  together  with  sundry  papers  and  letters,  with 
a  view  to  my  compiling  the  biography.  Mrs.  Fitz- 
gerald wished  me  to  undertake  this  work,  as  I  had  the 
good  fortune  to  be  a  friend  of  the  late  Lady  Burton, 
and  one  with  whom  she  frequently  discussed  literary 
matters ;  we  were,  in  fact,  thinking  of  writing  a 
romance  together,  but  her  illness  prevented  us. 

The  task  of  compiling  this  book  has  not  been  an 
easy  one,  mainly  for  two  reasons.  In  the  first  place, 
though  Lady  Burton  published  comparatively  little, 


viii  preface 

she  was  a  voluminous  writer,  and  she  left  behind 
her  such  a  mass  of  letters  and  manuscripts  that  the 
sorting  of  them  alone  was  a  formidable  task.  The 
difficulty  has  been  to  keep  the  book  within  limits. 
In  the  second  place,  Lady  Burton  has  written  the 
Life  of  her  husband  ;  and  though  in  that  book  she 
studiously  avoided  putting  herself  forward,  and  gave 
to  him  all  the  honour  and  the  glory,  her  life  was  so 
absolutely  bound  up  with  his,  that  of  necessity  she 
covered  some  of  the  ground  which  I  have  had  to  go 
over  again,  though  not  from  the  same  point  of  view. 
So  much  has  been  written  concerning  Sir  Richard 
Burton  that  it  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  tell  again 
the  story  of  his  life  here,  and  I  have  therefore  been 
able  to  write  wholly  of  his  wife,  an  equally  congenial 
task.  Lady  Burton  was  as  remarkable  as  a  woman 
as  her  husband  was  as  a  man.  Her  personality  was 
as  picturesque,  her  individuality  as  unique,  and, 
allowing  for  her  sex,  her  life  was  as  full  and  varied 
as  his. 

It  has  been  my  aim,  wherever  possible,  throughout 
this  book  to  let  Lady  Burton  tell  the  story  of  her 
life  in  her  own  words,  and  keep  my  narrative  in  the 
background.  To  this  end  I  have  revised  and  in- 
corporated the  fragment  of  autobiography  which  was 


preface  « 

cut  short  by  her  death,  and  I  have  also  pieced  together 
all  her  letters,  manuscripts,  and  journals  which  have 
a  bearing  on  her  travels  and  adventures.  I  have 
striven  to  give  a  faithful  portrait  of  her  as  revealed 
by  herself.  In  what  I  have  succeeded,  the  credit  is 
hers  alone  :  in  what  I  have  failed,  the  fault  is  mine, 
for  no  biographer  could  have  wished  for  a  more 
eloquent  subject  than  this  interesting  and  fascinating 
woman.  Thus,  however  imperfectly  I  may  have  done 
my  share  of  the  work,  it  remains  the  record  of  a  good 
and  noble  life — a  life  lifted  up,  a  life  unique  in  its 
self-sacrifice  and  devotion. 

Last  December,  when  this  book  was  almost  completed, 
a  volume  was  published  calling  itself  'The  'True  Life 
of  Captain  Sir  Richard  F.  Burton,  written  by  his  niece, 
Miss  Georgiana  M.  Stisted,  stated  to  be  issued  "with 
the  authority  and  approval  of  the  Burton  family." 
This  statement  is  not  correct — at  any  rate  not  wholly 
so  ;  for  several  of  the  relatives  of  the  late  Sir  Richard 
Burton  have  written  to  Lady  Burton's  sister  to  say 
that  they  altogether  disapprove  of  it.  The  book  con- 
tained a  number  of  cruel  and  unjust  charges  against 
Lady  Burton,  which  were  rendered  worse  by  the  fact 
that  they  were  not  made  until  she  was  dead  and  could 
no  longer  defend  herself.  Some  of  these  attacks  were 


x  preface 

so  paltry  and  malevolent,  and  so  utterly  foreign  to 
Lady  Burton's  generous  and  truthful  character,  that 
they  may  be  dismissed  with  contempt.  The  many 
friends  who  knew  and  loved  her  have  not  credited 
them  for  one  moment,  and  the  animus  with  which 
they  were  written  is  so  obvious  that  they  have  carried 
little  weight  with  the  general  public.  But  three  specific 
charges  call  for  particular  refutation,  as  silence  on  them 
might  be  misunderstood.  I  refer  to  the  statements 
that  Lady  Burton  was  the  cause  of  her  husband's  recall 
from  Damascus  ;  that  she  acted  in  bad  faith  in  the 
matter  of  his  conversion  to.the  Roman  Catholic  Church  ; 
and  to  the  impugning  of  the  motives  which  led  her  to 
burn  The  Scented  Garden.  I  should  like  to  emphasize 
the  fact  that  none  of  these  controversial  questions 
formed  part  of  the  original  scheme  of  this  book,  and 
they  would  not  have  been  alluded  to  had  it  not 
been  for  Miss  Stisted's  unprovoked  attack  upon  Lady 
Burton's  memory.  It  is  only  with  reluctance,  and 
solely  in  a  defensive  spirit,  that  they  are  touched  upon 
now.  Even  so,  I  have  suppressed  a  good  deal,  for 
there  is  no  desire  on  the  part  of  Lady  Burton's  relatives 
or  myself  to  justify  her  at  the  expense  of  the  husband 
whom  she  loved,  and  who  loved  her.  But  in  vindicating 
her  it  has  been  necessary  to  tell  the  truth.  If  therefore, 


preface  xi 

in  defending  Lady  Burton  against  these  accusations, 
certain  facts  have  come  to  light  which  would  other- 
wise have  been  left  in  darkness,  those  who  have 
wantonly  attacked  the  dead  have  only  themselves  to 
blame. 

In  conclusion,  I  should  like  to  acknowledge  my 
indebtedness  to  those  who  have  kindly  helped  me  to 
make  this  book  as  complete  as  possible.  I  am  espe- 
cially grateful  to  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  for  much  encourage- 
ment and  valuable  help,  including  her  reading  of  the 
proofs  as  they  went  through  the  press,  so  that  the 
book  may  be  truly  described  as  an  authorized  biography. 
I  also  wish  to  thank  Miss  Plowman,  the  late  Lady 
Burton's  secretary,  who  has  been  of  assistance  in  many 
ways.  I  acknowledge  with  gratitude  the  permission 
of  Captain  L.  H.  Gordon  to  publish  certain  letters 
which  the  late  General  Gordon  wrote  to  Sir  Richard 
and  Lady  Burton,  and  the  assistance  which  General 
Gordon's  niece,  Miss  Dunlop,  kindly  gave  me  in 
this  matter.  My  thanks  are  likewise  due  to  the 
Executors  of  the  late  Lord  Leighton  for  permission 
to  publish  Lord  Leighton's  portrait  of  Sir  Richard 
Burton;  to  Lady  Thornton  and  others  for  many 
illustrations ;  and  to  Lady  Salisbury,  Lady  Guendolen 
Ramsden,  Lord  Llandaff,  Sir  Henry  Elliot,  Mr. 


xii  preface 

W.  F.  D.  Smith,  Baroness  Paul  de  Ralli,  Miss  Bishop, 
Miss  Alice  Bird,  Madame  de  Gutmansthal-Benvenuti, 
and  others,  for  permission  to  publish  sundry  letters 
in  this  book. 

W.  H.  WILKINS. 

8,  MANDEVILLE  PLACE,  W., 
April,  1897. 


CONTENTS 


BOOK    I 

WAITING 

CHAPTER   I  PAGE 

BIRTH   AND   LINEAGE 3 

CHAPTER    II 
MY   CHILDHOOD   AND   YOUTH 13 

CHAPTER    III 
MY    FIRST   SEASON 26 

CHAPTER   IV 
BOULOGNE  :    I   MEET   MY   DESTINY 40 

CHAPTER   V 
FOUR   YEARS   OF   HOPE   DEFERRED 62 

CHAPTER   VI 
RICHARD    LOVES   ME 80 

CHAPTER   VII 
MY   CONTINENTAL   TOUR  :    ITALY 96 

CHAPTER    VIII 
MY   CONTINENTAL   TOUR  :    SWITZERLAND 117 

CHAPTER   IX 
THEY    MEET   AGAIN 140 

CHAPTER   X 
AT  LAST  .  I«J7 


xiv 


Contents 


BOOK    II 

WEDDED 
CHAPTER   I 


FERNANDO   PO 


CHAPTER   II 


MADEIRA 


TENER1FFE 


CHAPTER   III 


CHAPTER   IV 


A   TRIP   TO   PORTUGAL 


CHAPTER   V 


BRAZIL 


CHAPTER   VI 
OUR   EXPEDITION   INTO   THE    INTERIOR 


CHAPTER   VII 
MORRO   VELHO   AND   ITS    ENVIRONS     . 


CHAPTER    VIII 


MY   LONELY    RIDE   TO    RIO 


CHAPTER    IX 


HOME   AGAIN 


PAGE 
171 

184 
198 
226 

244 
271 

295 
322 

342 


CHAPTER   X 
MY    JOURNEY   TO    DAMASCUS 360 


CHAPTER   XI 


IN   AND   ABOUT   DAMASCUS 


375 


CHAPTER   XII 

EARLY    DAYS   AT    DAMASCUS 387 


CHAPTER    XIII 
THROUGH   THE   DESERT   TO   PALMYRA 


403 


Contents  *v 

CHAPTER  XIV  PAGB 

BLUDAN   IN   THE   ANTI-LEBANON 425 

CHAPTER   XV 
GATHERING   CLOUDS 448 

CHAPTER   XVI 
JERUSALEM   AND   THE    HOLY    LAND      ........          469 

CHAPTER    XVII 
THE    RECALL .       .          493 

CHAPTER   XVIII 
THE   TRUE    REASONS    OF    BURTON'S    RECALL 510 

CHAPTER   XIX 
THE   PASSING   OF   THE   CLOUD 524 

CHAPTER    XX 
EARLY   YEARS   AT   TRIESTE 535 

CHAPTER    XXI 
THE   JOURNEY   TO    BOMBAY 554 

CHAPTER   XXII 

INDIA 574 

CHAPTER   XXIII 
TRIESTE   AGAIN 604 

CHAPTER  XXIV 
THE   SHADOWS   LENGTHEN 625 

CHAPTER   XXV 
GORDON   AND   THE   BURTONS 645 

CHAPTER   XXVI 
THE   SWORD    HANGS 677 

CHAPTER   XXVII 
THE   SWORD   FALLS 698 


xvi  Contents 

BOOK    III 

WIDOWED 

CHAPTER  I  PAGE 

THE   TRUTH   ABOUT    "THE   SCENTED   GARDEN1'         .       .       .       .          719 

CHAPTER   II 
THE   RETURN   TO   ENGLAND 739 

CHAPTER   III 
THE   TINKLING   OF   THE   CAMEL'S   BELL 749 

INDEX 773 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

ISABEL  BURTON Frontispiece 

RICHARD    BURTON   IN    1848    (IN   NATIVE   DRESS)      ....  50 

BURTON   ON   HIS   PILGRIMAGE   TO    MECCA 70 

LADY    BURTON   AT  THE   TIME   OF   HER   MARRIAGE     ....  1 66 

LADY   BURTON   IN    1869 350 

MOSQUE   OF   OMAR,    JERUSALEM 472 

RICHARD    F.    BURTON 550 

LADY   BURTON   IN    1887 686 

THE   ROOM   IN   WHICH   LADY   BURTON   DIED 770 

THE  ARAB  TENT  AT   MORTLAKE 77<> 


BOOK    I 

WAITING 
(1831—1861) 

I  have  known  love  and  yearning  from  the  years 
Since  mother-milk  I  drank,  nor  e'er  was  free. 

ALF  LAYLAH  WA  LAYLAH 

(Burton's  "Arabian  Nights"). 


CHAPTER   I 

BIRTH  AND  LINEAGE 

Man  is  known  among  men  as  his  deeds  attest, 
Which  make  noble  origin  manifest. 

ALF  LAYLAH  WA  LAYLAH 

(Burton's  "  Arabian  Nights  "). 

T  SAB  EL,  Lady  Burton,  was  by  birth  an  Arundell 
JL  of  Wardour,  a  daughter  of  one  of  the  oldest 
and  proudest  houses  of  England.  The  Arundells  of 
Wardour  are  a  branch  of  the  great  family  of  whom 
it  was  sung : 

Ere  William  fought  and  Harold  fell 
There  were  Earls  of  Arundell. 

The  Earls  of  Arundell  before  the  Conquest  are 
somewhat  lost  in  the  mists  of  antiquity,  and  they  do 
not  affect  the  branch  of  the  family  from  which  Lady 
Burton  sprang.  This  branch  traces  its  descent  in  a 
straight  line  from  one  Roger  de  Arundell,  who,  accord- 
ing to  Domesday,  had  estates  in  Dorset  and  Somerset, 
and  was  possessed  of  twenty-eight  lordships.  The 
Knights  of  Arundell  were  an  adventurous  race.  One 
of  the  most  famous  was  Sir  John  Arundell,  a  valiant 

3 


4       Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  JSurton 

commander  who  served  Henry  VI.  in  France.  The 
grandson  of  this  doughty  knight,  also  Sir  John 
Arundell,  was  made  a  Knight  Banneret  by  Henry  VII. 
for  his  valour  at  the  sieges  of  Tiroven  and  Tournay, 
and  the  battle  that  ensued.  At  his  death  his  large 
estates  were  divided  between  the  two  sons  whom 
he  had  by  his  first  wife,  the  Lady  Eleanor  Grey, 
daughter  of  the  Marquis  of  Dorset,  whose  half-sister 
was  the  wife  of  Henry  VII.  The  second  son,  Sir 
Thomas  Arundell,  was  given  Wardour  Castle  in 
Wiltshire,  and  became  the  ancestor  of  the  Arundells 
of  Wardour. 

The  House  of  Wardour  was  therefore  founded  by 
Sir  Thomas  Arundell,  who  was  born  in  1500.  He 
had  the  good  fortune  in  early  life  to  become  the 
pupil,  and  ultimately  to  win  the  friendship,  of  Cardinal 
Wolsey.  He  played  a  considerable  part  throughout 
the  troublous  times  which  followed  on  the  King's 
quarrel  with  the  Pope,  and  attained  great  wealth  and 
influence.  He  was  a  cousin-german  of  Henry  VIII., 
and  he  was  allied  to  two  of  Henry's  ill-fated  queens 
through  his  marriage  with  Margaret,  daughter  of 
Lord  Edmond  Howard,  son  of  Thomas,  Duke  of 
Norfolk.  His  wife  was  a  cousin-german  of  Anne 
Boleyn  and  a  sister  of  Catherine  Howard.  Sir  Thomas 
Arundell  was  a  man  of  intellectual  powers  and  admin- 
istrative ability.  He  became  Chancellor  to  Queen 
Catherine  Howard,  and  he  stood  high  in  the  favoui 
of  Henry  VIII.  But  in  the  following  reign  evil 
days  came  upon  him.  He  was  accused  of  conspiring 
with  the  Lord  Protector  Somerset  to  kill  the  Earl  of 


Birtb  ant)  Xfneaae  5 

Northumberland,  a  charge  utterly  false,  the  real  reason 
of  his  impeachment  being  that  Sir  Thomas  had  been 
chief  adviser  to  the  Duke  of  Somerset  and  had 
identified  himself  with  his  policy.  He  was  beheaded 
on  Tower  Hill  a  few  days  after  the  execution  of  the 
Duke  of  Somerset.  Thus  died  the  founder  of  the 
House  of  Wardour. 

In  Sir  Thomas  Arundell's  grandson,  who  afterwards 
became  first  Lord  Arundell  of  Wardour,  the  adven- 
turous spirit  of  the  Arundells  broke  forth  afresh. 
When  a  young  man,  Thomas  Arundell,  commonly 
called  "  The  Valiant,"  went  over  to  Germany,  and 
served  as  a  volunteer  in  the  Imperial  army  in  Hungary. 
He  fought  against  the  Turks,  and  in  an  engagement 
at  Grau  took  their  standard  with  his  own  hands.  On 
this  account  Rudolph  II.,  Emperor  of  Germany,  created 
him  Count  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  and  decreed 
that  "  every  of  his  children  and  their  descendants 
for  ever,  of  both  sexes,  should  enjoy  that  title."  So 
runs  the  wording  of  the  charter.1  On  Sir  Thomas 
Arundell's  return  to  England  a  warm  dispute  arose 
among  the  Peers  whether  such  a  dignity,  so  conferred 
by  a  foreign  potentate,  should  be  allowed  place  or 
privilege  in  England.  The  matter  was  referred  to 

1  The  name  of  Arundell  of  Wardour  appears  in  the  official 
Austrian  lists  of  the  Counts  of  the  Empire.  The  title  is  still  enjoyed 
by  Lord  Arundell  and  all  the  members  of  the  Arundell  family  of 
both  sexes.  Lady  Burton  always  used  it  out  of  England,  and  took 
rank  and  precedence  at  foreign  courts  as  the  Countess  Isabel 
Arundell  (of  Wardour).  She  used  to  say,  characteristically:  "If 
the  thing  had  been  bought,  I  should  not  have  cared  ;  but  since  it 
was  given  for  a  brave  deed  I  am  right  proud  of  it. ' ' 


6       TEbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  JSurton 

Queen  Elizabeth,  who  answered,  "  that  there  was  a 
close  tie  of  affection  between  the  Prince  and  subject, 
and  that  as  chaste  wives  should  have  no  glances  but 
for  their  own  spouses,  so  should  faithful  subjects  keep 
their  eyes  at  home  and  not  gaze  upon  foreign  crowns ; 
that  we  for  our  part  do  not  care  that  our  sheep  should 
wear  a  stranger's  marks,  nor  dance  after  the  whistle 
of  every  foreigner."  Yet  it  was  she  who  sent  Sir 
Thomas  Arundell  in  the  first  instance  to  the  Emperor 
Rudolph  with  a  letter  of  introduction,  in  which  she 
spoke  of  him  as  her  "  dearest  cousin,"  and  stated  that 
the  descent  of  the  family  of  Arundell  was  derived 
from  the  blood  royal.  James  I.,  while  following 
in  the  footsteps  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  refusing  to 
acknowledge  the  title  conferred  by  the  Emperor, 
acknowledged  Sir  Thomas  Arundell's  worth  by  creating 
him  a  Baron  of  England  under  the  title  of  Baron 
Arundell  of  Wardour.  It  is  worthy  of  note  that 
James  II.  recognized  the  right  of  the  title  of  Count 
of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  to  Lord  Arundell  and 
all  his  descendants  of  both  sexes  in  a  document  of 
general  interest  to  Catholic  families. 

Thomas,  second  Baron  Arundell  of  Wardour, 
married  Blanche,  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Worcester. 
This  Lady  Arundell  calls  for  special  notice,  as  she  was 
in  many  ways  the  prototype  of  her  lineal  descendant, 
Isabel.  When  her  husband  was  away  serving  with 
the  King's  army  in  the  Great  Rebellion,  Lady  Arundell 
bravely  defended  Wardour  for  nine  days,  with  only 
a  handful  of  men,  against  the  Parliamentary  forces 
who  besieged  it.  Lady  Arundell  then  delivered  up 


JStrtb  ant)  Xtneage  7 

the  castle  on  honourable  terms,  which  the  besiegers 
broke  when  they  took  possession.  They  were,  how- 
ever, soon  dislodged  by  Lord  Arundell,  who,  on  his 
return,  ordered  a  mine  to  be  sprung  under  his  castle, 
and  thus  sacrificed  the  ancient  and  stately  pile  to  his 
loyalty.  He  and  his  wife  then  turned  their  backs  on 
their  ruined  home,  and  followed  the  King's  fortunes, 
she  sharing  with  uncomplaining  love  all  her  husband's 
trials  and  privations.  Lord  Arundell,  like  the  rest 
of  the  Catholic  nobility  of  England,  was  a  devoted 
Royalist.  He  raised  at  his  own  expense  a  regiment 
of  horse  for  the  service  of  Charles  I.,  and  in  the 
battle  of  Lansdowne,  when  fighting  for  the  King,  he 
was  shot  in  the  thigh  by  a  brace  of  pistol  bullets, 
whereof  he  died  in  his  Majesty's  garrison  at  Oxford. 
He  was  buried  with  great  pomp  in  the  family  vault 
at  Tisbury.  His  devoted  wife,  like  her  descendant 
Isabel  Burton,  that  other  devoted  wife  who  strongly 
resembled  her,  survived  her  husband  barely  six  years. 
She  died  at  Winchester ;  but  she  was  buried  by  his 
side  at  Tisbury,  where  her  monument  may  still  be 
seen. 

Henry,  third  Lord  Arundell,  succeeded  his  father 
in  his  titles  and  honours.  Like  many  who  had  made 
great  sacrifices  to  the  Royal  cause,  he  did  not  find  an 
exceeding  great  reward  when  the  King  came  into  his 
own  again.  As  Arundell  of  Wardour  was  one  of  the 
strictest  and  most  loyal  of  the  Catholic  families  of 
England,  its  head  was  marked  out  for  Puritan  persecu- 
tion. In  1678  Lord  Arundell  was,  with  four  other 
Catholic  lords,  committed  a  prisoner  to  the  Tower, 


8       Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  burton 

upon  the  information  of  the  infamous  Titus  Gates  and 
other  miscreants  who  invented  the  "  Popish  Plots." 
Lord  Arundell  was  confined  in  the  Tower  until  1683, 
when  he  was  admitted  to  bail.  Five  years'  imprison- 
ment for  no  offence  save  fidelity  to  his  religion  and 
loyalty  to  his  king  was  a  cruel  injustice  ;  but  in  those 
days,  when  the  blood  of  the  best  Catholic  families 
in  England  ran  like  water  on  Tower  Hill,  Lord 
Arundell  was  lucky  to  have  escaped  with  his  head. 
On  James  II.'s  accession  to  the  throne  he  was  sworn 
of  the  Privy  Council  and  held  high  office.  On  King 
James's  abdication  he  retired  to  his  country  seat, 
where  he  lived  in  great  style  and  with  lavish  hospi- 
tality. Among  other  things  he  kept  a  celebrated  pack 
of  hounds,  which  afterwards  went  to  Lord  Castlehaven, 
and  thence  were  sold  to  Hugo  Meynell,  and  became  the 
progenitors  of  the  famous  Quorn  pack. 

Henry,  the  sixth  Baron,  is  noteworthy  as  being  the 
last  Lord  Arundell  of  Wardour  from  whom  Isabel 
was  directly  descended  (see  p.  9),  and  with  him  our 
immediate  interest  in  the  Arundells  of  Wardour  ceases. 
Lady  Burton  was  the  great-granddaughter  of  James 
Everard  Arundell,  his  third  and  youngest  son.  Her 
father,  Mr.  Henry  Raymond  Arundell,  was  twice 
married.  His  first  wife  died  within  a  year  of  their 
marriage,  leaving  one  son.  Two  years  later,  in  1830, 
Mr.  Henry  Arundell  married  Miss  Eliza  Gerard,  a 
sister  of  Sir  Robert  Gerard  of  Garswood,  who  was 
afterwards  created  Lord  Gerard.  The  following  year, 
1831,  Isabel,  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  was  born. 

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JF                                             1 

io      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  ^Button 

reasons.  In  the  first  place,  she  herself  would  have 
wished  it.  She  paid  great  attention  to  her  pedigree, 
and  at  one  time  contemplated  writing  a  book  on  the 
Arundells  of  Wardour,  and  with  this  view  collected  a 
mass  of  information,  which,  with  characteristic  generosity, 
she  afterwards  placed  at  Mr.  Yeatman's  disposal  for 
his  History  of  the  House  of  Arundell.  She  regarded 
her  forefathers  with  reverence,  and  herself  as  their 
product.  But  proud  though  she  was  of  her  ancestry, 
there  never  was  a  woman  freer  from  the  vulgarity 
of  thrusting  it  forward  upon  all  and  sundry,  or  of 
expecting  to  be  honoured  for  it  alone.  Though  of 
noble  descent,  not  only  on  her  father's  side,  but  on 
her  mother's  as  well  (for  the  Gerards  are  a  family  of 
eminence  and  antiquity,  springing  from  the  common 
ancestor  of  the  Dukes  of  Leinster  in  Ireland  and  the 
Earls  of  Plymouth,  now  extinct,  in  England),  yet  she 
counted  it  as  nothing  compared  with  the  nobility  of 
the  inner  worth,  the  majesty  which  clothes  the  man, 
be  he  peasant  or  prince,  with  righteousness.  She  often 
said,  "  The  man  only  is  noble  who  does  noble  deeds," 
and  she  always  held  that 

He,  who  to  ancient  wreaths  can  bring  no  more 
From  his  own  worth,  dies  bankrupt  on  the  score. 

Another  reason  why  I  have  called  attention  to  Lady 
Burton's  ancestry  is  because  she  attached  considerable 
importance  to  the  question  of  heredity  generally,  quite 
apart  from  any  personal  aspect.  She  looked  upon  it 
as  a  field  in  which  Nature  ever  reproduces  herself,  not 
only  with  regard  to  the  physical  organism,  but  also  the 


3Birtb  ant)  Xfneage  n 

psychical  qualities.  But  with  it  all  she  was  no  pessimist, 
for  she  believed  that  there  was  in  every  man  an  ever- 
rallying  force  against  the  inherited  tendencies  to  vice 
and  sin.  She  was  always  "  on  the  side  of  the  angels." 

I  remember  her  once  saying :  "  Since  I  leave  none  to 
come  after  me,  I  must  needs  strive  to  be  worthy  of 
those  who  have  gone  before  me." 

And  she  was  worthy  —  she,  the  daughter  of  an  ancient 
race,  which  seems  to  have  found  in  her  its  crowning 
consummation  and  expression.  If  one  were  fanciful, 
one  could  see  in  her  many-sided  character,  reflected  as 
in  the  facets  of  a  diamond,  the  great  qualities  which 
had  been  conspicuous  in  her  ancestors.  One  could  see 
in  her,  plainly  portrayed,  the  roving,  adventurous  spirit 
which  characterized  the  doughty  Knights  of  Arundell 
in  days  when  the  field  of  travel  and  adventure  was 
much  more  limited  than  now.  One  could  mark  the 
intellectual  and  administrative  abilities,  and  perhaps  the 
spice  of  worldly  wisdom,  which  were  conspicuous  in  the 
founder  of  the  House  of  Wardour.  One  could  note  in 
her  the  qualities  of  bravery,  dare-devilry,  and  love  of 
conflict  which  shone  out  so  strongly  in  the  old  Knight 
of  Arundell  who  raised  the  sieges  of  Tiroven  and 
Tournay,  and  in  "  The  Valiant "  who  captured  with 
his  own  hands  the  banner  of  the  infidel.  One  could  see 
the  reflex  of  that  loyalty  to  the  throne  which  marked 
the  Lord  Arundell  who  died  fighting  for  his  king.  One 
could  trace  in  her  the  same  tenacity  and  devotion  with 
which  all  her  race  has  clung  to  the  ancient  faith  and 
which  sent  one  of  them  to  the  Tower.  Above  all 
one  could  trace  her  likeness  to  Blanche  Lady  Arundell, 


12      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  JBurton 

who  held  Wardour  at  her  lord's  bidding  against  the 
rebels.  She  was  like  her  in  her  lion-hearted  bravery,  in 
her  proud  but  generous  spirit,  in  her  determination 
and  resource,  and  above  all  in  her  passionate  wifely 
devotion  to  the  man  to  whom  she  felt  herself  "  destined 
from  the  beginning." 

In  sooth  they  were  a  goodly  company,  these  Arundells 
of  Wardour,  and  'tis  such  as  they,  brave  men  and  good 
women  in  every  rank  of  life,  who  have  made  England 
the  nation  she  is  to-day.  Yet  of  them  all  there  was 
none  nobler,  none  truer,  none  more  remarkable  than 
this  late  flower  of  their  race,  Isabel  Burton. 


CHAPTER   II1 

MY  CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH 

(1831—1849) 

As  star  knows  star  across  the  ethereal  sea, 
So  soul  feels  soul  to  all  eternity. 

LESSED  be  they  who  invented   pens,   ink,  and 
JL)     paper ! 

I  have  heard  men  speak  with  infinite  contempt  of 
authoresses.  As  a  girl  I  did  not  ask  my  poor  little 
brains  whether  this  mental  attitude  towards  women 
was  generous  in  the  superior  animal  or  not ;  but  I 
did  like  to  slope  off  to  my  own  snug  little  den,  away 
from  my  numerous  family,  and  scribble  down  the 
events  of  my  ordinary,  insignificant,  uninteresting  life, 
and  write  about  my  little  sorrows,  pleasures,  and 
peccadilloes.  I  was  only  one  of  the  "  wise  virgins," 
providing  for  the  day  when  I  should  be  old,  blind, 
wrinkled,  forgetful,  and  miserable,  and  might  like  such 
a  record  to  refresh  my  failing  memory.  So  I  went 
back,  by  way  of  novelty,  beyond  my  memory,  and 
gleaned  details  from  my  father. 

1  The  greater  part  of  Book  I.  is  compiled  from  Lady  Burton's 
unfinished  autobiography,  at  which  she  was  working  the  last  few 
months  of  her  life.  The  story  is  therefore  told  mainly  in  her  own 
words. 

13 


14       ZTbe  IRomance  of  Ssabel  Xaop  JSurton 

For  those  who  like  horoscopes,  I  was  born  on  a 
Sunday  at  ten  minutes  to  9  a.m.,  March  20,  1831, 
at  4,  Great  Cumberland  Place,  near  the  Marble  Arch. 
I  am  not  able  to  give  the  aspect  of  the  planets  on  this 
occasion  ;  but,  unlike  most  babes,  I  was  born  with  my 
eyes  open,  whereupon  my  father  predicted  that  I  should 
be  very  a  wide  awake."  As  soon  as  I  could  begin  to 
move  about  and  play,  I  had  such  a  way  of  pointing 
my  nose  at  things,  and  of  cocking  my  ears  like  a  kitten, 
that  I  was  called  "  Puss,"  and  shall  probably  be  called 
Puss  when  I  am  eighty.  I  was  christened  Isabel,  after 
my  father's  first  wife,  nee  Clifford,  one  of  his  cousins. 
She  died,  after  a  short  spell  of  happiness,  leaving  him 
with  one  little  boy,  who  at  the  time  I  was  born  was 
between  three  and  four  years  old. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  my  mother,  Elizabeth 
Gerard,  and  Isabel  Clifford,  my  father's  first  wife,  were 
bosom  friends,  schoolfellows,  and  friends  out  in  the 
world  together ;  and  amongst  other  girlish  confidences 
they  used  to  talk  to  one  another  about  the  sort  of 
man  each  would  marry.  Both  their  men  were  to  be 
tall,  dark,  and  majestic  ;  one  was  to  be  a  literary  man, 
and  a  man  of  artistic  tastes  and  life  ;  the  other  was  to 
be  a  statesman.  When  Isabel  Clifford  married  my 
father,  Henry  Raymond  Arundell  (of  Wardour),  her 
cousin,  my  mother,  seeing  he  was  a  small,  fair,  boyish- 
looking  man,  whose  chief  hobbies  were  hunting  and 
shooting,  said,  "  I  am  ashamed  of  you,  Isabel !  How 
can  you  ?  "  Nevertheless  she  used  to  go  and  help  her 
to  make  her  baby-clothes  for  the  coming  boy.  After 
Isabel's  death  nobody,  except  my  father,  deplored  her 


Cbifoboofc  anb  HJoutb  15 

so  much  as  her  dear  friend  my  mother ;  so  that  my 
father  only  found  consolation  (for  he  would  not  go 
out  nor  meet  anybody  in  the  intensity  of  his  grief) 
in  talking  to  my  mother  of  his  lost  wife.  From 
sympathy  came  pity,  from  pity  grew  love,  and  three 
years  after  Isabel's  death  my  mother  and  my  father 
were  married.  They  had  eleven  children,  great  and 
small ;  I  mean  that  some  only  lived  to  be  baptized  and 
died,  some  lived  a  few  years,  and  some  grew  up.1 

To  continue  my  own  small  life,  I  can  remember 
distinctly  everything  that  has  happened  to  me  from 
the  age  of  three.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  was 
pretty  or  not ;  there  is  a  very  sweet  miniature  of  me 
with  golden  hair  and  large  blue  eyes,  and  clad  in  a 
white  muslin  frock  and  gathering  flowers,  painted  by 
one  of  the  best  miniature  painters  of  1836,  when 
miniatures  were  in  vogue  and  photographs  unknown. 
My  mother  said  I  was  "  lovely,"  and  my  father  said  I 
was  "  all  there "  ;  but  I  am  told  my  uncles  and  aunts 
used  to  put  my  mother  in  a  rage  by  telling  her  how 
ugly  I  was.  My  father  adored  me,  and  spoilt  me 
absurdly ;  he  considered  me  an  original,  a  bit  of 
"perfect  nature."  My  mother  was  equally  fond  of 
me,  but  severe — all  her  spoiling,  on  principle,  went  to 
her  step-son,  whose  name  was  Theodore. 

When  my  father  and  mother  were  first  married, 
James  Everard  Arundell,  my  father's  first  cousin,  and 
my  godfather,  was  the  then  Lord  Arundell  of  Wardour. 
He  was  reputed  to  be  the  handsomest  peer  of  the 
day,  and  he  was  married  to  a  sister  of  the  Duke  of 

1  Two  only  now  survive  :  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  and  Mrs.  Van  Zelle* 


16       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

Buckingham.  He  invited  my  father  and  mother,  as 
the  two  wives  were  friends,  to  come  and  occupy  one 
wing  of  Wardour  immediately  after  their  marriage, 
and  they  did  so.  When  James  Everard  died,  my 
parents  left  Wardour,  and  took  a  house  in  Montagu 
Place  at  the  top  of  Bryanston  Square,  and  passed  their 
winters  hunting  at  Leamington. 

We  children  were  always  our  parents'  first  care. 
Great  attention  was  paid  to  our  health,  to  our  walks, 
to  our  dress,  our  baths,  and  our  persons ;  our  food 
was  good,  but  of  the  plainest  ;  we  had  a  head  nurse 
and  three  nursery-maids  ;  and,  unlike  the  present, 
everything  was  upstairs — day  nurseries  and  night 
nurseries  and  schoolroom.  The  only  times  we  were 
allowed  downstairs  were  at  two  o'clock  luncheon  (our 
dinner),  and  to  dessert  for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
if  our  parents  were  dining  alone  or  had  very  intimate 
friends.  On  these  occasions  I  was  dressed  in  white 
muslin  and  blue  ribbons,  and  Theodore,  my  step- 
brother, in  green  velvet  with  turn-over  lace  collar 
after  the  fashion  of  that  time.  We  were  not  allowed 
to  speak  unless  spoken  to  ;  we  were  not  allowed  to 
ask  for  anything  unless  it  was  given  to  us.  We 
kissed  our  father's  and  mother's  hands,  and  asked 
their  blessing  before  going  upstairs,  and  we  stood 
upright  by  the  side  of  them  all  the  time  we  were  in 
the  room.  In  those  days  there  was  no  lolling  about, 
no  Tommy-keep-your-fingers-out-of-the-jam,  no  Dick- 
crawling-under-the-table-pinching-people's-legs  as  now- 
adays. We  children  were  little  gentlemen  and  ladies, 
and  people  of  the  world  from  our  birth  ;  it  was  the 


Cbilfcfooo&  ant)  Jpoutb  17 

old  school.  The  only  diversion  from  this  strict  rule 
was  an  occasional  drive  in  the  park  with  mother,  in 
a  dark  green  chariot  with  hammer-cloth,  and  green 
and  gold  liveries  and  powdered  wigs  for  coachman 
and  footman  :  no  one  went  into  the  park  in  those 
days  otherwise.  My  daily  heart-twinges  were  saying 
good-night  to  my  mother,  always  with  an  impression 
that  I  might  not  see  her  again,  and  the  other  terror 
was  the  old-fashioned  rushlight  shade,  like  a  huge 
cylinder  with  holes  in  it,  which  made  hideous  shadows 
on  the  bedroom  walls,  and  used  to  frighten  me 
horribly  every  time  I  woke.  The  most  solemn  thing 
to  me  was  the  old-fashioned  Charley,  or  watchman, 
pacing  up  and  down  the  street,  and  singing  in  deep 
and  mournful  tone,  "  Past  one  o'clock,  and  a  cloudy 
morning." 

At  the  age  of  ten  I  was  sent  to  the  Convent  of  the 
Canonesses  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  New  Hall,  Chelms- 
ford,  and  left  there  when  I  was  sixteen.  In  one  sense 
my  leaving  school  so  early  was  a  misfortune  ;  I  was  just 
at  the  age  when  one  begins  to  understand  and  love  one's 
studies.  I  ought  to  have  been  kept  at  the  convent, 
or  sent  to  some  foreign  school  ;  but  both  my  father 
and  mother  wanted  to  have  me  at  home  with  them. 

I  want  to  describe  my  home  of  that  period.  It  was 
called  Furze  Hall,  near  Ingatestone,  Essex.  Dear 
place  !  I  can  shut  my  eyes  and  see  it  now.  It  was  a 
white,  straggling,  old-fashioned,  half-cottage,  half-farm- 
house, built  by  bits,  about  a  hundred  yards  from  the 
road,  from  which  it  was  completely  hidden  by  trees. 
It  was  buried  in  bushes,  ivy,  and  flowers.  Creepers 


1 8       Ube  TRomance  of  -Jsabel  Xafcg  JSurton 

covered  the  walls  and  the  verandahs,  and  crawled  in 
at  the  windows,  making  the  house  look  like  a  nest  ; 
it  was  surrounded  by  a  pretty  flower  garden  and 
shrubberies,  and  the  pasture-land  had  the  appearance 
of  a  small  park.  There  were  stables  and  kennels. 
Behind  the  house  a  few  woods  and  fields,  perhaps 
fifty  acres,  and  a  little  bit  of  water,  all  enclosed 
by  a  ring  fence,  comprised  our  domain.  Inside  the 
house  the  hall  had  the  appearance  of  the  main  cabin 
of  a  man-of-war,  and  opened  all  around  into  rooms 
by  various  doors  :  one  into  a  small  library,  which  led 
to  a  pretty,  cheerful  little  drawing-room,  with  two 
large  windows  down  to  the  ground  ;  one  opened  on 
to  a  trim  lawn,  the  other  into  a  conservatory  ;  another 
door  opened  into  a  smoking-room,  for  the  male  part  of 
the  establishment,  and  the  opposite  one  into  a  little 
chapel  ;  and  a  dining-room,  running  off  by  the  back 
door  with  glass  windows  to  the  ground,  led  to  the 
garden.  There  was  a  pretty  honeysuckle  and  jessamine 
porch,  which  rose  just  under  my  window,  in  which 
wrens  and  robins  built  their  nests,  and  birds  and  bees 
used  to  pay  me  a  visit  on  summer  evenings.  We  had 
many  shady  walks,  arbours,  bowers,  a  splendid  slanting 
laurel  hedge,  and  a  beautiful  bed  of  dahlias,  all  colours 
and  shades.  A  beech-walk  like  the  aisle  of  a  church 
had  a  favourite  summer-house  at  the  end.  The  pretty 
lawn  was  filled,  as  well  as  the  greenhouse,  with  the 
choicest  flowers  ;  and  we  had  rich  crops  of  grapes,  the 
best  I  ever  knew.  I  remember  a  mulberry  tree,  under 
the  shade  of  which  was  a  grave  and  tombstone  and 
epitaph,  the  remains  and  memorial  of  a  faithful  old 


Cbttoboofc  an&  l^outb  19 

dog  ;  and  I  remember  a  pretty  pink  may  tree,  a  large 
white  rose,  and  an  old  oak,  with  a  seat  round  it. 
Essex  is  generally  flat ;  but  around  us  it  was  undulating 
and  well-wooded,  and  the  lanes  and  drives  and  rides 
were  beautiful.  We  were  rather  in  a  valley,  and  a 
pretty  road  wound  up  a  rise,  at  the  top  of  which  our 
tall  white  chimneys  could  be  seen  smoking  through 
the  trees.  The  place  could  boast  no  grandeur  ;  but 
it  was  my  home,  I  passed  my  childhood  there,  and 
loved  it. 

We  used  to  have  great  fun  on  a  large  bit  of  water 
in  the  park  of  one  of  our  neighbours, — in  the  ice  days 
in  winter  with  sledges,  skating,  and  sliding  ;  in  the 
summer-time  we  used  to  scamper  all  over  the  country 
with  long  poles  and  jump  over  the  hedges.  Never- 
theless, I  had  a  great  deal  of  solitude,  and  I  passed 
much  time  in  the  woods  reading  and  contemplating. 
Disraeli's  Tancred  and  similar  occult  books  were 
my  favourites  ;  but  ^ancred^  with  its  glamour  of 
the  East,  was  the  chief  of  them,  and  I  used  to 
think  out  after  a  fashion  my  future  life,  and  try  to 
solve  great  problems.  I  was  forming  my  character. 

And  as  I  was  as  a  child,  so  I  am  now.  I  love  solitude. 
I  have  met  with  people  who  dare  not  pass  a  moment 
alone  ;  many  seem  to  dread  themselves.  I  find  no 
greater  happiness  than  to  be  alone  out  of  doors,  either 
on  the  sea-beach  or  in  a  wood,  and  there  reflect. 
With  me  solitude  is  a  necessary  consolation  ;  I  can 
soothe  my  miseries,  enjoy  my  pleasures,  form  my 
mind,  reconcile  myself  to  disappointments,  and  plan 
my  conduct.  A  person  may  be  sorrowful  without 


20       ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  %at>£  JBurton 

being  alone,  and  the  mind  may  be  alone  in  a  large 
assembly,  in  a  crowded  city,  but  not  so  pleasantly.  I 
have  heard  that  captives  can  solace  themselves  by 
perpetually  thinking  of  what  they  loved  best ;  but  there 
is  a  danger  in  excess  of  solitude,  lest  our  thoughts 
run  the  wrong  way  and  ferment  into  eccentricity. 
Every  right-minded  person  must  think,  and  thought 
comes  only  in  solitude.  He  must  ponder  upon  what 
he  is,  what  he  has  been,  what  he  may  become.  The 
energies  of  the  soul  rise  from  the  veiled  obscurity 
it  is  placed  in  during  its  contact  with  the  world. 
It  is  when  alone  that  we  obtain  cheerful  calm- 
ness and  content,  and  prepare  for  the  hour  of 
action.  Alone,  we  acquire  a  true  notion  of  things, 
bear  the  misfortunes  of  life  calmly,  look  firmly  on 
the  pride  and  insolence  of  the  great,  and  dare  to 
think  for  ourselves,  which  the  majority  of  the  great 
dare  not.  When  can  the  soiil  feel  that  it  lives,  and  is 
great,  free,  noble,  immortal,  if  not  in  thought  ?  Oh  ! 
one  can  learn  in  solitude  what  the  worldly  have  no 
idea  of.  True  it  is  that  some  souls  capable  of  reflec- 
tion plunge  themselves  into  an  endless  abyss,  and 
know  not  where  to  stop.  I  have  never  felt  one  of 
those  wild,  joyous  moments  when  we  brood  over  our 
coming  bliss,  and  create  a  thousand  glorious  conse- 
quences. But  I  have  known  enough  of  sorrow  to  ap- 
preciate rightly  any  moment  without  an  immediate  care. 
There  are  moments  of  deep  feeling,  when  one  must 
be  alone  in  self-communion,  alike  to  encounter  good 
fortune  or  danger  and  despair,  even  if  one  draws  out 
the  essence  of  every  misery  in  thought. 


ant>  Joutb  21 


I  was  enthusiastic  about  gypsies,  Bedawin  Arabs, 
and  everything  Eastern  and  mystic,  and  especially 
about  a  wild  and  lawless  life.  Very  often,  instead  of 
going  to  the  woods,  I  used  to  go  down  a  certain  green 
lane  ;  and  if  there  were  any  oriental  gypsies  there,  I 
would  go  into  their  camp  and  sit  for  an  hour  or  two 
with  them.  I  was  strictly  forbidden  to  associate  with 
them  in  our  lanes,  but  it  was  my  delight.  When  they 
were  only  travelling  tinkers  or  basket-menders,  I  was 
very  obedient  ;  but  wild  horses  would  not  have  kept 
me  out  of  the  camps  of  the  oriental,  yet  English- 
named,  tribes  of  Burton,  Cooper,  Stanley,  Osbaldiston, 
and  one  other  tribe  whose  name  I  forget.  My  par- 
ticular friend  was  Hagar  Burton,  a  tall,  slender, 
handsome,  distinguished,  refined  woman,  who  had  much 
influence  in  her  tribe.  Many  an  hour  did  I  pass  with 
her  (she  used  to  call  me  "  Daisy  "),  and  many  a  little 
service  I  did  them  when  any  of  her  tribe  were  sick, 
or  got  into  a  scrape  with  the  squires  anent  poultry, 
eggs,  or  other  things.  The  last  day  I  saw  Hagar 
Burton  in  her  camp  she  cast  my  horoscope  and  wrote 
it  in  Romany.  The  rest  of  the  tribe  presented  me 
with  a  straw  fly-catcher  of  many  colours,  which  I  still 
have.  The  horoscope  was  translated  to  me  by  Hagar. 
The  most  important  part  of  it  was  this  : 

"  You  will  cross  the  sea,  and  be  in  the  same  town 
with  your  Destiny  and  know  it  not.  Every  obstacle 
will  rise  up  against  you,  and  such  a  combination  of 
circumstances,  that  it  will  require  all  your  courage, 
energy,  and  intelligence  to  meet  them.  Your  life 
will  be  like  one  swimming  against  big  waves  ;  but 


22       Ube  Romance  of  -Jsabel  Xabg  JSurton 

God  will  be  with  you,  so  you  will  always  win.  You 
will  fix  your  eye  on  your  polar  star,  and  you  will  go 
for  that  without  looking  right  or  left.  You  will  bear 
the  name  of  our  tribe,  and  be  right  proud  of  it.  You 
will  be  as  we  are,  but  far  greater  than  we.  Your 
life  is  all  wandering,  change,  and  adventure.  One  soul 
in  two  bodies  in  life  or  death,  never  long  apart.  Show 
this  to  the  man  you  take  for  your  husband. — HAGAR 
BURTON." 

She  also  prophesied  : 

"  You  shall  have  plenty  to  choose  from,  and  wait  for 
years  ;  but  you  are  destined  to  him  from  the  begin- 
ning. The  name  of  our  tribe  shall  cause  you  many  a 
sorrowful,  humiliating  hour  ;  but  when  the  rest  who 
sought  him  in  the  heyday  of  his  youth  and  strength 
fade  from  his  sight,  you  shall  remain  bright  and 
purified  to  him  as  the  morning  star,  which  hangs 
like  a  diamond  drop  over  the  sea.  Remember  that 
your  destiny  for  your  constancy  will  triumph,  the  name 
we  have  given  you  will  be  yours,  and  the  day  will 
come  when  you  will  pray  for  it,  long  for  it,  and  be 
proud  of  it." 

Much  other  talk  I  had  with  Hagar  Burton  sitting 
around  the  camp-fire,  and  then  she  went  from  me  ; 
and  I  saw  her  but  once  again,  and  that  after  many  years. 

This  was  the  ugliest  time  of  my  life.  Every  girl  has 
an  ugly  age.  I  was  tall,  plump,  and  meant  to  be  fair, 
but  was  always  tanned  and  sunburnt.  I  knew  my  good 
points.  What  girl  does  not  ?  I  had  large,  dark  blue, 
earnest  eyes,  and  long,  black  eyelashes  and  eyebrows, 
which  seemed  to  grow  shorter  the  older  I  got.  I  had 


CbfU>boo&  an&  l^outb  23 

very  white  regular  teeth,  and  very  small  hands  and 
feet  and  waist  ;  but  I  fretted  because  I  was  too  fat 
to  slip  into  what  is  usually  called  "  our  stock  size," 
and  my  complexion  was  by  no  means  pale  and  in- 
teresting enough  to  please  me.  From  my  gypsy  tastes 
I  preferred  a  picturesque  toilette  to  a  merely  smart 
one.  I  had  beautiful  hair,  very  long,  thick  and  soft, 
with  five  shades  in  it,  and  of  a  golden  brown.  My 
nose  was  aquiline.  I  had  all  the  material  for  a  very 
good  figure,  and  once  a  sculptor  wanted  to  sculpt  me, 
but  my  mother  would  not  allow  it,  as  she  thought 
I  should  be  ashamed  of  my  figure  later,  when  I  had 
fined  down.  I  used  to  envy  maypole,  broomstick  girls, 
who  could  dress  much  prettier  than  I  could.  I  was 
either  fresh  and  wild  with  spirits,  or  else  melancholy 
and  full  of  pathos.  I  wish  I  could  give  as  faithful 
a  picture  of  my  character  ;  but  we  are  apt  to  judge 
ourselves  either  too  favourably  or  too  severely,  and  so 
I  would  rather  quote  what  a  phrenologist  wrote  of  me 
at  this  time  : 

"  When  Isabel  Arundell  loves,  her  affection  will  be 
something  extraordinary,  her  devotion  great — in  fact, 
too  great.  It  will  be  her  leading  passion,  and  influence 
her  whole  life.  Everything  will  be  sacrificed  for  one 
man,  and  she  will  be  constant,  unchangeable,  and  jealous 
of  his  affections.  In  short,  he  will  be  her  salvation  or 
perdition  !  Her  temper  is  good,  but  she  is  passionate  ; 
not  easily  roused,  but  when  violently  irritated  she 
might  be  a  perfect  little  demon.  She  is,  however,  for- 
giving. She  is  full  of  originality  and  humour,  and  her 
utter  naturalness  will  pass  for  eccentricity.  She  loves 


24       Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xafcg  Burton 

society,  wherein  she  is  wild  and  gay  ;  when  alone,  she 
is  thoughtful  and  melancholy.  She  is  ambitious, 
sagacious,  and  intellectual,  and  will  attract  attention 
by  a  certain  simple  dignity,  by  a  look  in  her  eye  and 
a  peculiar  tone  of  her  voice.  To  sum  her  up  :  Her 
nature  is  noble,  ardent,  generous,  honourable,  and 
good-hearted.  She  has  courage,  both  animal  and 
mental.  Her  faults  are  the  noble  and  dashing  ones, 
the  spicy  kind  to  enlist  one's  sympathies,  the  weeds 
that  spring  from  a  too  luxuriant  soil." 

Thus  wrote  a  professional  phrenologist  of  me,  and 
a  friend  who  was  fond  of  me  at  the  time  endorsed  it 
in  every  word.  With  regard  to  the  ambition,  I  always 
felt  that  if  I  were  a  man  I  should  like  to  be  a  great 
general  or  statesman,  to  have  travelled  everywhere,  to 
have  seen  and  learnt  everything,  done  everything  ;  in 
fine,  to  be  the  Man  of  the  Day ! 

When  I  was  between  seventeen  and  eighteen  years 
of  age,  we  left  Furze  Hall  and  went  to  London.  The 
place  in  which  we  have  passed  our  youthful  days,  be 
it  ever  so  dull,  possesses  a  secret  charm. 

I  performed  several  pilgrimages  of  adieu  to  every 
spot  connected  with  the  bright  reminiscences  of  youth. 
I  fancied  no  other  fireside  would  be  so  cosy,  that  I 
could  sleep  in  no  other  room,  no  fields  so  green. 
Those  who  know  what  it  is  to  leave  their  quasi-native 
place  for  the  first  time,  never  to  return ;  to  know  every 
stick  and  stone  in  the  place  for  miles  round,  and  take 
an  everlasting  farewell  of  them  all  ;  to  have  one's  pet 
animals  destroyed  ;  to  make  a  bonfire  of  all  the  things 
that  one  does  not  want  desecrated  by  stranger  hands ; 


CbUDboofc  ant)  J^outb  25 

to  sit  on  some  height  and  gaze  on  the  general  havoc  ; 
to  reflect  on  what  is,  what  has  been,  and  what  may 
be  in  a  strange  world,  amidst  strange  faces ;  to  shake 
hands  with  a  crowd  of  poor  old  servants,  peasants,  and 
humble  friends,  and  not  a  dry  eye  to  be  seen, — those 
who  have  tasted  something  of  this  will  sympathize  with 
my  feelings  then.  "Ah,  miss,"  the  old  retainers  said, 
"we  shall  have  no  more  jolly  Christmases  ;  we  shall 
have  no  beef,  bread,  and  flannels  next  year  ;  the  hall 
will  not  be  decked  with  festoons  of  holly  ;  there  will 
be  no  more  music  and  dancing  ! "  "  No  more  snap- 
dragons and  round  games,"  quoth  the  gamekeeper  ; 
and  his  voice  trembled,  and  I  saw  the  tears  in  his 
eyes  and  in  the  eyes  of  them  all. 

So  broke  up  our  little  home  in  Essex,  and  we  went 
our  ways. 


CHAPTER  III 

MY  FIRST  SEASON 
(1849—1850) 

Society  itself,  which  should  create 
Kindness,  destroys  what  little  we  have  goc 
To  feel  for  none  is  the  true  social  art 
Of  the  world's  lovers. 

BYROW. 

I  WAS  soon  going  through  a  London  drilling.  I  was 
very  much  pleased  with  town,  and  the  novelty  of 
my  life  amused  me  and  softened  my  grief  at  leaving  my 
country  home.  I  greatly  disliked  being  primmed  and 
scolded,  and  I  thought  dressing  up  an  awful  bore,  and 
never  going  out  without  a  chaperone  a  greater  one. 
Some  things  amused  me  very  much.  One  thing  was, 
that  all  the  footmen  with  powdered  wigs  who  opened 
the  door  when  one  paid  a  visit  were  obsequious  if  one 
came  in  a  carriage,  but  looked  as  if  they  would  like  to 
shut  the  door  in  one's  face  it  one  came  on  foot.  Another 
was  the  way  people  stared  at  me  ;  it  used  to  make  me 
laugh,  but  I  soon  found  I  must  not  laugh  in  their  faces. 
We  put  our  house  in  order  ;  we  got  pretty  dresses, 
and  we  left  our  cards  ;  we  were  all  ready  for  the 

season's  campaign.     I  made  my  debut  at  a  fancy  ball 

26 


ffirst  Season  27 

at  Almack's,  which  was  then  very  exclusive.     We  went 
under  the  wing  of  the  Duchess  of  Norfolk. 

I  shall  never  forget  that  first  ball.  To  begin  at  the 
beginning,  there  was  my  dress.  How  a  girl  of  the 
present  day  would  despise  it !  I  wore  white  tarlatan 
over  white  silk,  and  the  first  skirt  was  looped  up  to 
my  knee  with  a  blush  rose.  My  hair,  which  was 
very  abundant,  was  tressed  in  an  indescribable  fashion 
by  Alexandre,  and  decked  with  blush  roses.  I  had  no 
ornaments  ;  but  I  really  looked  very  well,  and  was 
proud  of  myself.  We  arrived  at  Almack's  about  eleven. 
The  scene  was  dazzlingly  brilliant  to  me  as  I  entered. 
The  grand  staircase  and  ante-chamber  were  decked  with 
garlands,  and  festoons  of  white  and  gold  muslin  and 
ribbons.  The  blaze  of  lights,  the  odour  of  flowers,  the 
perfumes,  the  diamonds,  and  the  magnificent  dresses  of 
the  cream  of  the  British  aristocracy  smote  upon  my 
senses ;  all  was  new  to  me,  and  all  was  sweet.  Julian's 
band  played  divinely.  My  people  had  been  absent  from 
London  many  seasons,  so  at  first  it  seemed  strange.  But 
at  Almack's  every  one  knew  every  one  else  ;  for  society  in 
those  days  was  not  a  mob,  but  small  and  select.  People 
did  not  struggle  to  get  on  as  people  do  now,  and  we 
were  there  by  right,  and  to  resume  our  position  in  our 
circle.  There  is  much  more  heart  in  the  world  than 
many  people  give  it  credit  for — at  any  rate  in  the  world 
of  the  gentle  by  birth  and  breeding.  Every  one  had  a 
hearty  welcome  for  my  people,  and  some  good-natured 
chaff  about  their  having  "  buried  themselves  "  so  long. 
I  was  at  once  taken  by  the  hand,  and  kindly  greeted 
by  many.  Some  great  personage,  whose  name  I  forget, 


28       Ube  IRomance  ot  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 

gave  a  private  supper,  besides  the  usual  one,  to  which 
we  were  invited ;  and  in  those  days  there  were  polkas, 
valses,  quadrilles,  and  galops.  Old  stagers  (mammas) 
had  told  me  to  consider  myself  very  lucky  if  I  got 
four  dances,  but  I  was  engaged  seven  or  eight  deep 
soon  after  I  entered  the  ballroom,  and  had  more 
partners  than  I  could  dance  with  in  one  night.  Of 
course  mother  was  delighted  with  me,  and  I  was 
equally  pleased  with  her  :  she  looked  so  young  and 
fashionable ;  and  instead  of  frightening  young  men 
away,  as  she  had  always  done  in  the  country,  she 
appeared  to  attract  them,  engage  them  in  conversa- 
tion, and  seemed  to  enjoy  everything ;  she  was  such 
a  nice  chaperone.  I  was  very  much  confused  at  the 
amount  of  staring  (I  did  not  know  that  every  new 
girl  was  stared  at  on  her  first  appearance)  ;  and  one 
may  think  how  vain  and  incredulous  I  was,  when  I 
overheard  some  one  telling  my  mother  that  I  had  been 
quoted  as  the  new  beauty  at  his  club.  Fancy,  poor 
ugly  me  ! 

I  shall  not  forget  my  enjoyment  of  that  first  ball. 
I  had  always  been  taught  to  look  upon  it  as  the 
opening  of  Fashion's  fairy  gates  to  a  paradise  ;  nor 
was  I  disappointed,  for,  to  a  young  girl  who  has 
never  seen  anything,  her  first  entrance  into  a  brilliant 
ballroom  is  very  intoxicating.  The  blaze  of  light  and 
colour,  the  perfume  of  scent  and  bouquet,  the  beautiful 
dresses,  the  spirited  music,  the  seemingly  joyous  multi- 
tude of  happy  faces,  laughing  and  talking  as  if  care 
were  a  myth,  the  partners  flocking  round  the  door  to 
see  the  new  arrivals — all  was  delightful  to  me.  But 


jfirst  Season  29 

then  of  coi  rse  in  those  days  we  were  not  born  blase, 
as  the  young  people  are  to-day. 

And  I  shall  never  forget  my  first  opera.  I  shall 
always  remember  the  delights  of  that  night.  I  thought 
even  the  crush-room  lovely,  and  the  brilliant  gaslight, 
the  mysterious  little  boxes,  with  their  red-velvet 
curtains,  filled  with  handsome  men  and  pretty  women, 
which  I  think  Lady  Blessington  describes  as  "  rags 
of  roues,  memoranda  books  of  other  women's  follies, 
like  the  last  scene  of  the  theatre  ;  they  come  out  in  gas 
and  red  flame,  but  do  not  stand  daylight."  I  do  not 
say  that,  but  some  of  them  certainly  looked  so.  The 
opera  was  La  Sonambula,  with  Jenny  Lind  and  Gardoni. 
When  the  music  commenced,  I  forgot  I  was  on  earth  ; 
and,  so  passionately  fond  of  singing  and  acting  as  I 
was,  it  was  not  wonderful  that  I  was  quite  absorbed 
by  this  earth's  greatest  delight.  Jenny's  girlish  figure, 
simple  manner,  birdlike  voice,  so  thrilling  and  so  full 
of  assion,  her  perfect  acting  and  irresistible  love- 
making,  were  matchless.  Gardoni  was  very  handsome 
and  very  stiff.  The  scene  where  Gardoni  takes  her 
ring  from  her,  and  the  last  scene  when  he  dis- 
covers his  mistake,  and  her  final  song,  will  ever  be 
engraven  on  my  memory ;  and  if  I  see  the  opera 
a  thousand  times,  I  shall  never  like  it  as  well  as 
I  did  that  night,  for  all  was  new  to  me.  And  after 
— only  think,  what  pleasure  for  me  ! — there  came 
the  ballet  with  the  three  great  stars  Amalia  Ferraris, 
Cerito,  and  Fanny  Essler,  whom  so  few  are  old  enough 
to  remember  now.  There  are  no  ballets  nowadays 
like  those. 


30       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  %ao£  Burton 

This  London  life  of  society  and  amusement  was 
delightful  to  me  after  the  solitary  one  I  had  been 
leading  in  the  country.  I  was  ready  for  anything,  and 
the  world  and  its  excitement  gave  me  no  time  to 
hanker  after  my  Essex  home.  The  rust  was  soon 
rubbed  off ;  I  forgot  the  clouds ;  my  spirit  was 
unbroken,  and  I  lived  in  the  present  scrap  of  rose- 
colour.  They  were  joyous  and  brilliant  days,  for  I 
was  exploring  novelties  I  had  only  read  or  heard  of. 
I  went  through  all  the  sight-seeing  of  London,  and 
the  (to  me)  fresh  amusement  of  shopping,  visiting, 
operas,  balls,  and  of  driving  in  Rotten  Row.  The 
days  were  very  different  then  to  what  they  are  now  : 
one  rose  late,  and,  except  a  cup  of  tea,  breakfast  and 
luncheon  were  one  meal ;  then  came  shopping,  visiting, 
or  receiving.  One  went  to  the  Park  or  Row  at 
5.30,  home  to  dress,  and  then  off  to  dinner  or  the 
opera,  and  out  for  the  night,  unless  there  was  a  party 
at  home.  This  lasted  every  day  and  night  from 
March  till  the  end  of  July,  and  often  there  were  two 
or  three  things  of  a  night.  I  was  tired  at  first  ;  but 
at  the  end  of  a  fortnight  I  was  tired-proof,  and  of 
course  I  was  dancing  mad.  The  Sundays  were  diversified 
by  High  Mass  at  Farm  Street,  and  perhaps  a  Greenwich 
dinner  in  the  afternoon. 

I  enjoyed  that  season  immensely,  for  it  was  all  new, 
and  the  life-zest  was  strong  within  me.  But  I  could 
not  help  pitying  poor  wall-flowers — a  certain  set  of 
girls  who  come  out  every  night,  who  have  been  out 
season  after  season,  and  who  stand  or  sit  out  all  night. 
I  often  used  to  say  to  my  partners,  "  Do  go  and  dance 


Jftrst  Season  3' 

with  So-and-so  "  ;  and  the  usual  rejoinder  was,  "  I  really 
would  do  anything  to  oblige  you,  but  I  am  sick  of 
seeing  those  girls."  In  fact,  we  girls  must  not  appear 
on  the  London  boards  too  often  lest  we  fatigue  these 
young  coxcombs.  London,  like  the  smallest  watering- 
place,  is  full  of  cliques  and  sets  on  a  large  scale,  from 
Billingsgate  up  to  the  throne.  The  great  world  then 
comprised  the  Court  and  its  entourage,  the  Ministers, 
and  the  Corps  Diplomatique,  the  military,  naval,  and 
literary  stars,  the  leaders  of  the  fashionable  and 
political  world,  the  cream  of  the  aristocracy  of  England  ; 
and — at  the  time  of  which  I  write — the  old  Catholic 
cousinhood  clan  used  to  hold  its  own.  You  must 
either  have  been  born  in  this  great  world,  or  you  must 
have  arrived  in  it  through  aristocratic  patronage,  or 
through  your  talents,  fame,  or  beauty.  Nowadays  you 
only  want  wealth  !  There  were  some  sets  even  then 
which  were  rather  rapid,  which  abolished  a  good  deal 
of  the  tightness  of  convenance,  whose  motto  seemed  to 
be  savoir  vivre,  to  be  easy,  fascinating,  fashionable,  and 
dainty  as  well  as  social. 

I  found  a  ballroom  the  very  place  for  reflection  ; 
and  with  the  sentiment  that  I  should  use  society  for 
my  pleasure  instead  of  being  its  slave,  I  sometimes 
obstinately  would  refuse  a  dance  or  two,  or  sitting-out 
and  talking,  in  order  to  lean  against  some  pillar  and 
contemplate  human  nature,  in  defiance  of  my  admirers, 
who  thought  me  very  eccentric.  I  loved  to  watch  the 
intriguing  mother  catching  a  coronet  for  her  daughter, 
and  the  father  absorbed  in  politics  with  some  con- 
temporary fogey  ;  the  old  dandy  with  his  frilled  shirt 


32       Ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JSurton 

capering  in  a  quadrille  the  steps  that  were  danced  in 
Noah's  ark ;  the  rouged  old  peeress,  whom  you  would 
not  have  taken  to  be  respectable  if  you  did  not  happen 
to  know  her,  flirting  with  boys.  I  saw  other  old 
ones,  with  one  foot  in  the  grave,  almost  mad  with 
excitement  over  cards  and  dice,  and  every  passion, 
except  Jove,  gleaming  from  their  horrid  eyes.  I  saw 
the  rivalry  amongst  the  beauties.  I  noted  the  brainless 
coxcomb,  who  comes  in  for  an  hour,  leans  against  the 
door,  twirls  his  moustache,  and  goes  out  again — a  sort 
of  "  Aw  !  the  Tenth-don't-dance-young-man  !  "  ;  the 
boy  who  asks  all  the  prettiest  girls  to  dance,  steps  on 
their  toes,  tears  their  dresses,  and  throws  them  down  ; 
the  confirmed,  bad,  intriguing  London  girl,  who  will 
play  any  game  for  her  end  ;  and  the  timid,  delighted 
young  girl,  who  finds  herself  of  consequence  for  the 
first  time.  I  have  watched  the  victim  of  the  heartless 
coquette — the  young  girl  gazing  with  tearful,  longing 
eyes  for  the  man  to  ask  her  to  dance  to  whom  she 
has  perhaps  unconsciously  betrayed  her  affection  ;  she 
in  her  innocence  like  a  pane  of  glass,  the  other 
glorying  in  her  torture,  dancing  or  flirting  with  the 
man  in  her  sight,  only  to  glut  her  vanity  with  another's 
disappointment.  I  have  watched  the  jealousy  of  men 
to  each  other,  vying  for  a  woman's  favour  and  cutting 
each  other  out.  I  have  heard  mothers  running  down 
each  other's  daughters,  dowagers  and  prudent  spinsters 
casting  their  eyes  to  heaven  for  vengeance  on  the 
change  of  manners — even  in  the  Forties  ! — on  the 
licence  of  the  day,  and  the  liberty  of  the  age !  I 
have  heard  them  sighing  for  minuets  and  pigtails,  for  I 


fftrst  Season  33 

came  between  two  generations — the  minuet  was  old 
and  the  polka  was  new  ;  all  alike  were  polka  mad, 
all  crazed  with  the  idea  of  getting  up  a  new  fast  style, 
but  oh  !  lamblike  to  what  it  is  now  !  I  watched  the  last 
century  trying  to  accommodate  itself  to  the  present. 

One  common  smile  graced  the  lips  of  all — the 
innocent,  the  guilty,  the  happy,  and  the  wretched  ;  the 
same  colour  on  bright  cheeks,  some  of  it  real,  some 
bought  at  Atkinson's;  and,  more  wonderful  still,  the 
same  general  outward  decorum,  placidity,  innocence, 
and  good  humour,  as  if  prearranged  by  general  consent. 
I  pitied  the  vanity,  jealousy,  and  gossip  of  many 
women.  I  classed  the  men  too  :  there  were  many 
good ;  but  amongst  some  there  were  dishonour  and 
meanness  to  each  other,  in  some  there  were  coarseness 
and  brutality,  and  in  some  there  was  deception  to 
women  ;  some  were  so  narrow-minded,  so  wanting  in 
intellect,  that  I  believed  a  horse  or  a  dog  to  be  far 
superior.  But  my  ideal  was  too  high,  and  I  had  not 
in  those  days  found  my  superior  being. 

I  met  some  very  odd  characters,  which  made  one 
form  some  rather  useful  rules  to  go  by.  One  man  I 
met  had  every  girl's  name  down  on  paper,  if  she 
belonged  to  the  haute  volee,  her  age,  her  fortune, 
and  her  personal  merits  ;  for  he  said,  "  One  woman, 
unless  one  happens  to  be  in  love  with  her,  is  much 
the  same  as  another."  He  showed  me  my  name 
down  thus  :  "  Isabel  Arundell,  eighteen,  beauty, 
talent  and  goodness,  original — chief  fault  £0  oj.  od.  \  " 
Then  he  showed  me  the  name  of  one  of  my  friends  : 
•f  Handsome,  age  seventeen,  rather  missish,  £50,000  ; 

3 


34       Ube  iRoniance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JSurton 

she  cannot  afford  to  flirt  except  pour  le  bon  motif \ 
and  I  cannot  afford,  as  a  younger  brother,  to  marry 
a  girl  with  £50,000.  She  is  sure  to  have  been  brought 
up  like  a  duchess,  and  want  the  whole  of  her  money 
for  pin-money — a  deuced  expensive  thing  is  a  girl 
with  £50,000 ! "  Then  he  rattled  on  to  others. 
I  told  him  I  did  not  think  much  of  the  young  men 
of  the  day.  <c  There  now,"  he  answered,  "  drink  of 
the  spring  nearest  to  you,  and  be  thankful ;  by  being 
too  fastidious  you  will  get  nothing." 

I  took  a  great  dislike  to  the  regular  Blue  Stocking ; 
I  can  remember  reading  somewhere  such  a  good 
description  of  her  :  "  One  who  possesses  every  quali- 
fication to  distinguish  herself  in  conversation,  well 
read  and  intelligent,  her  manner  cold,  her  head  cooler, 
her  heart  the  coolest  of  all,  never  the  dupe  of  her 
own  sentiments;  she  examined  her  people  before  she 
adopted  them,  a  necessary  precaution  where  light  is 
borrowed." 

A  great  curiosity  to  me  were  certain  married  people, 
who  were  known  never  to  speak  to  each  other  at 
home,  but  who  respected  the  convenances  of  society  so 
much  that  even  if  they  never  met  in  private  they 
took  care  to  be  seen  together  in  public,  and  to  enter 
evening  parties  together  with  smiling  countenances. 
Somebody  writes  : 

Have  they  not  got  polemics  and  reform, 
Peace,  war,  the  taxes,  and  what  is  called  the  Nation, 

The  struggle  to  be  pilots  in  the  storm, 
The  landed  and  the  moneyed  speculation, 

The  joys  of  mutual  hate  to  keep  them  warm 
Instead  of  love,  that  mere  hallucination  ? 


Season  35 

What  a  contrast  women  are  !  One  woman  is  "  fine 
enough  to  cut  her  own  relations,  too  fine  to  be  seen 
in  the  usual  places  of  public  resort,  and  therefore  of 
course  passes  with  the  vulgar  for  something  exquisitely 
refined."  Another  I  have  seen  who  would  have  sacri- 
ficed all  London  and  its  "  gorgeous  mantle  of  purple 
and  gold "  to  have  wedded  some  pale  shadow  of 
friendship,  which  had  wandered  by  her  side  amid  her 
childhood's  dreary  waste.  And  oh  !  how  I  pity  the 
many  stars  who  fall  out  of  the  too  dangerously  attractive 
circle  of  society !  The  fault  there  seems  not  to  be 
the  sin,  but  the  stupidity  of  being  found  out.  I  say 
one  little  prayer  every  day  :  "  Lord,  keep  me  from 
contamination."  I  never  saw  a  woman  who  renounced 
her  place  in  society  who  did  not  prove  herself  capable 
of  understanding  its  value  by  falling  fifty  fathoms 
lower  than  her  original  fall.  The  fact  is,  very  few 
people  of  the  world,  especially  those  who  have  not 
arrived  at  the  age  of  discretion,  are  apt  to  stop  short 
in  their  career  of  pleasure  for  the  purpose  of  weigh- 
ing in  the  balance  their  own  conduct,  enjoyments,  or 
prospects;  in  short,  it  would  be  very  difficult  for  any 
worldly  woman  to  be  always  stopping  to  examine 
whether  she  is  enjoying  the  right  kind  of  happiness 
in  the  right  kind  of  way,  and,  once  fallen,  a  woman 
seems  to  depend  on  her  beauty  to  create  any  interest 
in  her  favour.  I  knew  nothing  of  these  things 
then  ;  and  though  I  think  it  quite  right  that  women 
should  be  kept  in  awe  of  certain  misdemeanours,  I 
cannot  understand  why,  when  one,  who  is  not  bad, 
has  a  misfortune,  other  women  should  join  in  hounding 


36       ttbe  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  JSurton 

her  down,  and  at  the  same  time  giving  such  licence 
to  really  bad  women,  whom  society  cannot  apparently 
do  without.  'Tis  "one  man  may  steal  a  horse,  and 
another  ma)  not  look  over  the  hedge."  If  a  woman 
fell  down  in  the  mud  with  her  nice  white  clothes  on, 
and  had  a  journey  to  go,  she  would  not  lie  down  and 
wallow  in  the  mud  ;  she  would  jump  up,  and  wash  her- 
self clean  at  the  nearest  spring,  and  be  very  careful 
not  to  fall  again,  and  reach  her  journey's  end  safely. 
But  other  women  do  not  allow  that ;  they  must  haul 
out  buckets  of  the  mud,  and  pour  it  over  the  fallen 
one,  that  there  may  be  no  mistake  about  it  at  all. 
Then  men  seem  to  find  a  wondrous  charm  in  poaching 
on  other  men's  preserves  (though  a  poacher  of  birds 
gets  terrible  punishments,  once  upon  a  time  hanging), 
as  if  their  neighbours'  coverts  afforded  better  shooting 
than  their  own  manors. 

When  I  went  to  London,  I  had  no  idea  of  the  matri- 
monial market  ;  I  should  have  laughed  at  it  just  as 
much  as  an  unmarrying  man  would.  I  was  interested 
in  the  fast  girls  who  amused  themselves  at  most  extra- 
ordinary lengths,  not  meaning  to  marry  the  man  ;  and 
at  the  slower  ones  labouring  day  and  night  for  a 
husband  of  some  sort,  without  any  success.  I  heard 
a  lady  one  day  say  to  her  daughter,  "  My  dear,  if  you 
do  not  get  off  during  your  first  season,  I  shall  break 
my  heart."  Our  favourite  men  joined  us  in  walks 
and  rides,  came  into  our  opera-box,  and  barred  all  the 
waltzes  ;  but  it  would  have  been  no  fun  to  me  to  have 
gone  on  as  some  girls  did,  because  I  had  no  desire  to 
reach  the  happy  goal,  either  properly  or  improperly. 


jfirst  Season  37 

Mothers  considered  me  crazy,  and  almost  insolent, 
because  I  was  not  ready  to  snap  at  any  good  parti  ;  and 
I  have  seen  dukes'  daughters  gladly  accept  men  that 
poor  humble  I  would  have  turned  up  my  nose  at. 

What  think* st  thou  of  the  fair  Sir  Eglamour  ? 
As  of  a  knight  well  spoken,  neat  and  fine ; 
But  were  I  you  he  never  should  be  mine. 

Lots  of  such  men,  or  mannikins,  affected  the  season, 
then  as  now,  and  congregated  around  the  rails  of 
Rotten  Row.  I  sometimes  wonder  if  they  are  men 
at  all,  or  merely  sexless  creatures — animated  tailors' 
dummies.  Shame  on  them  thus  to  disgrace  their  man- 
hood !  'Tis  man's  work  to  do  great  deeds  !  Well, 
the  young  men  of  the  day  passed  before  me  without 
making  the  slightest  impression.  My  ideal  was  not 
among  them.  My  ideal,  as  I  wrote  it  down  in  my 
diary  at  that  time,  was  this  : 

'*  As  God  took  a  rib  out  of  Adam  and  made  a 
woman  of  it,  so  do  I,  out  of  a  wild  chaos  of  thought, 
form  a  man  unto  myself.  In  outward  form  and  in- 
most soul  his  life  and  deeds  an  ideal.  This  species 
of  fastidiousness  has  protected  me  and  kept  me  from 
fulfilling  the  vocation  of  my  sex — breeding  fools  and 
chronicling  small  beer.  My  ideal  is  about  six  feet  in 
height ;  he  has  not  an  ounce  of  fat  on  him  ;  he  has 
broad  and  muscular  shoulders,  a  powerful,  deep  chest ; 
he  is  a  Hercules  of  manly  strength.  He  has  black  hair, 
a  brown  complexion,  a  clever  forehead,  sagacious  eye- 
brows, large,  black,  wondrous  eyes — those  strange  eyes 
you  dare  not  take  yours  from  off  them — with  long 


38       Ube  IRomance  ot  3sal>el  OLafcg  3Burton 


lashes.  He  is  a  soldier  and  a  »w«  ;  he  is  accustomed 
to  command  and  to  be  obeyed.  He  frowns  on  the 
ordinary  affairs  of  life,  but  his  face  always  lights  up 
warmly  for  me.  In  his  dress  he  never  adopts  the 
fopperies  of  the  day,  but  his  clothes  suit  him  —  they 
are  made  for  him,  not  he  for  them.  He  is  a  thorough 
man  of  the  world  ;  he  is  a  few  years  older  than  myself. 
He  is  a  gentleman  in  every  sense  of  the  word  —  not 
only  in  manners,  dress,  and  appearance,  but  in  birth 
and  position,  and,  better  still,  in  ideas  and  actions  ;  and 
of  course  he  is  an  Englishman.  His  religion  is  like 
my  own,  free,  liberal,  and  generous-minded.  He  is  by 
no  means  indifferent  on  the  subject,  as  most  men  are  ; 
and  even  if  he  does  not  conform  to  any  Church,  he 
will  serve  God  from  his  innate  duty  and  sense  of  honour. 
The  great  principle  is  there.  He  is  not  only  not  a 
fidgety,  strait-laced,  or  mistaken-conscienced  man  on 
any  subject  ;  he  always  gives  the  mind  its  head.  His 
politics  are  conservative,  yet  progressive.  His  manners 
are  simple  and  dignified,  his  mind  refined  and  sensitive, 
his  temper  under  control  ;  he  has  a  good  heart,  with 
common  sense,  and  more  than  one  man's  share  of 
brains.  He  is  a  man  who  owns  something  more  than 
a  body  ;  he  has  a  head  and  heart,  a  mind  and  soul. 
He  is  one  of  those  strong  men  who  lead,  the  master- 
mind who  governs,  and  he  has  perfect  control  over 
himself. 

"  This  is  the  creation  of  my  fancy,  and  my  ideal 
of  happiness  is  to  be  to  such  a  man  wife,  comrade, 
friend  —  everything  to  him,  to  sacrifice  all  for  him,  to 
follow  his  fortunes  through  his  campaigns,  through 


jffrst  Season  39 

his  travels,  to  any  part  of  the  world,  and  endure  any 
amount  of  roughing.  I  speak  of  the  ideal  man  'tis 
true,  and  some  may  mock  and  say,  *  Where  is  the  mate 
for  such  a  man  to  be  found  ? '  But  there  are  ideal 
women  too.  Such  a  man  only  will  I  wed.  I  love  this 
myth  of  my  girlhood — for  myth  it  is — next  to  God  ; 
and  I  look  to  the  star  that  Hagar  the  gypsy  said  was 
the  star  of  my  destiny,  the  morning  star,  which  is  the 
place  I  allot  to  my  earthly  god,  because  the  ideal  seems 
too  high  for  this  planet,  and,  like  the  philosopher's 
stone,  may  never  be  found  here.  But  if  I  find  such 
a  man,  and  afterwards  discover  he  is  not  for  me,  then 
I  will  never  marry.  I  will  try  to  be  near  him,  only 
to  see  him,  and  hear  him  speak  ;  and  if  he  marries 
somebody  else,  I  will  become  a  sister  of  charity  of 
St.  Vincent  de  Paul." 


CHAPTER    IV 

BOULOGNE:  I  MEET  MY  DESTINY 

(1850—1852) 

Was't  archer  shot  me,  or  was't  thine  eyes? 

ALF  LAYLAH  WA  LAYLAH 

(Burton's  "  Arabian  Nights  "). 

r  I  "HE  season  over  (August,  1850),  change  of  air, 
JL  sea-bathing,  French  masters  to  finish  our  education 
and  economy  were  loudly  called  for  ;  and  we  turned  our 
faces  towards  some  quiet  place  on  the  opposite  shores 
of  France,  and  we  thought  that  Boulogne  might  suit. 
We  were  soon  ready  and  off. 

We  had  a  pleasant  but  rough  passage  of  fifteen 
hours  from  London.  While  the  others  were  employed 
in  bringing  up  their  breakfasts,  I  sat  on  deck  and 
mused.  Suddenly  I  remembered  that  Hagar  had  told 
me  I  should  cross  the  sea,  and  then  I  wondered  why 
we  had  chosen  Boulogne.  I  was  leaving  England  for 
the  first  time  ;  I  knew  not  for  how  long.  What  should 
I  go  through  there,  and  how  changed  should  I  come 
back  ?  I  had  gone  with  a  light  heart.  I  was  young 
then  ;  I  loved  society  and  hated  exile.  I  had  written 
in  my  diary  only  a  little  time  before  :  "  As  for  me,  I 

am  never    better  pleased  than  when  I  watch  this  huge 

40 


Boulogne :  3  fl&eet  /IDs  Besting  41 

game  of  chess,  Life,  being  played  on  that  extensive  chess- 
board, Society."  I  never  felt  so  patriotic  as  that  first 
morning  on  sea  when  the  white  cliffs  faded  from  my 
view.  We  never  appreciate  things  until  we  lose  them, 
and  I  thought  of  what  the  feelings  of  soldiers  and 
sailors  must  be,  going  from  England  and  returning 
after  years  of  absence. 

At  length  the  boat  stopped  at  the  landing-place  at 
Boulogne,  and  we  were  driven  like  a  flock  of  sheep 
between  two  ropes  into  a  papier-mache-looking  building, 
whence  we  were  put  into  a  carriage  like  a  bathing- 
machine,  and  driven  through  what  I  took  to  be  mews, 
but  which  were  in  reality  the  principal  streets.  I 
recognize  in  this  reflection  the  prejudiced  London 
Britisher,  the  John  Bull  ;  for  in  reality  Boulogne  was 
a  most  picturesque  town,  and  our  way  lay  through 
most  picturesque  streets.  After  driving  up  the  hilly 
street,  and  under  an  archway,  in  the  old  town,  we 
came  to  a  good,  large  house  like  a  barn,  No.  4,  Rue 
des  Basses  Chambres,  Haute  Ville,  Boulogne-sur-Mer. 
The  rooms  were  chiefly  furnished  with  bellows  and 
brass  candlesticks ;  there  was  not  the  ghost  of  an  arm- 
chair, sofa,  ottoman,  or  anything  comfortable  ;  and  the 
only  thing  at  all  cheery  was  our  kinswoman,  Mrs. 
Edmond  Jerningham,  who,  apprised  of  our  arrival,  had 
our  fires  lighted  and  beds  made.  She  was  cutting  bread- 
and-butter  and  preparing  tea  for  us  when  we  came 
in,  and  had  ready  for  us  a  turkey  the  size  of  a  fine 
English  chicken.  This  banquet  over,  we  all  turned 
into  bed,  and  slept  between  the  blankets. 

Next  morning  our  boxes  were  still  detained  at  the 


42       ttbe  "Romance  ot  Isabel  Xabp  JSurton 

custom-house,  and  my  brothers  and  sisters  and  myself 
got  some  bad  tea  and  some  good  bread-and-butter,  and 
sat  round  in  a  circle  on  the  floor  in  our  night-gowns, 
with  our  food  in  the  middle.  Shortly  after  we  heard 
a  hooting,  laughing,  and  wrangling  in  a  shrill  key, 
"  Coralie,  Rosalie,  Florantine,  Celestine,  Euphrosine  !  " 
so  I  pricked  up  my  ears  in  the  hopes  of  seeing  some 
of  those  pretty,  well-dressed,  piquante  little  soubrettes 
of  whom  we  had  heard  mother  talk,  when  in  rolled 
about  a  dozen  harpies  with  our  luggage.  At  first  I 
did  not  feel  sure  whether  they  were  men  or  women  ; 
they  had  picturesque  female  dresses  on,  but  their 
manners,  voices,  language,  and  gestures  were  those  of 
the  lowest  costermongers.  They  spoke  to  me  in 
patois,  which  I  did  not  understand,  and  seemed  sur- 
prised to  see  us  all  in  our  nightgowns,  forgetting  that 
we  had  little  else  to  put  on  till  they  had  brought 
the  luggage.  I  gave  them  half  a  crown,  which  they 
appeared  to  think  a  great  deal  of  money,  and  it  in- 
spirited them  greatly.  They  danced  about  me,  whirled 
me  round,  and  in  five  minutes  one  had  decked  me  up 
in  a  red  petticoat,  another  arrayed  me  in  her  jacket, 
and  a  third  clapped  her  dirty  cap  on  my  head,  and 
I  was  completely  attired  a  la  marine.  I  felt  so  amused 
by  the  novelty  of  the  thing  that  I  forgot  to  be 
angry  at  their  impertinence,  and  laughed  as  heartily 
as  they  did. 

When  they  were  gone,  we  set  to  work  and  unpacked 
and  dressed,  and  by  the  afternoon  were  as  comfortable 
as  we  could  make  ourselves ;  but  we  were  thoroughly 
wretched,  though  mother  kept  telling  us  to  look  at 


Bouloone :  3  flDeet  /IDs  Besting  43 

the  beautiful  sky,  which  was  not  half  as  blue  or  bright 
as  on  the  other  side  of  the  water.  We  sauntered  out 
to  look  at  the  town.  I  own  my  first  impressions  of 
France  were  very  unfavourable  ;  Boulogne  looked  to 
me  like  a  dirty  pack  of  cards,  such  as  a  gypsy  pulls 
out  of  her  pocket  to  tell  your  fortune  with.  The 
streets  were  irregular,  narrow,  filthy,  and  full  of  open 
gutters,  which  we  thought  would  give  us  the  cholera. 
The  pavement  was  like  that  of  a  mews  ;  the  houses 
were  unfurnished  ;  the  sea  was  so  far  out  from  our  part 
of  the  town  that  it  might  as  well  not  have  been  there 
— and  such  a  dirty,  ugly-looking  sea  too,  we  thought  ! 
The  harbour  was  full  of  poisonous-looking  smelling 
mud,  and  always  appeared  to  be  low  water.  The 
country  was  dry,  barren,  and  a  dirty  brown  (it  was  a 
hot  August)  ;  the  cliffs  were  black ;  and  there  was  not 
a  tree  to  be  seen — I  used  to  pretend  to  get  under  a 
lamp-post  for  shade.  Every  now  and  then  we  had 
days  of  fine  weather,  with  clouds  of  dust  and  sirocco, 
or  else  pouring  rain  and  bleak  winds.  From  mother's 
talk  of  the  Continent  we  expected  at  least  the  comforts 
of  Brighton  with  the  romance  of  Naples  ;  and  I  shall 
never  forget  our  feelings  when  we  were  told  that,  after 
Paris,  Boulogne  was  the  nicest  town  in  France.  Now 
I  imagine  that  ours  are  the  feelings  of  every  narrow- 
minded,  prejudiced  John  Bull  Britisher  the  first  time 
he  lands  abroad.  It  takes  him  some  little  time  to 
thoroughly  appreciate  all  the  good  things  that  he  does 
get  abroad,  and  to  be  fascinated  with  the  picturesque- 
ness,  and  then  often  he  returns  home  unwillingly. 
We  had  a  cheap  cook,  so  that  our  dinners  would 


44       TTbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

have  been  scarcely  served  up  in  my  father's  kennel  at 
home.  When  I  had  eaten  what  I  could  pick  out  by 
dint  of  shutting  my  eyes  and  forcing  myself  to  get  it 
down,  I  used  to  lie  down  daily  on  a  large  horsehair 
sofa,  such  as  one  sees  in  a  tradesman's  office,  and 
sometimes  cry  till  I  fell  asleep  ;  I  felt  so  sorry  for 
us  ail. 

The  most  interesting  people  in  Boulogne  were  the 
•poissardeS)  or  fisherwomen  ;  they  are  of  Spanish  and 
Flemish  extraction,  and  are  a  clan  apart  to  themselves. 
They  are  so  interesting  that  I  wonder  that  no  one  has 
written  a  little  book  about  them.  They  look  down 
on  the  Boulognais  ;  they  are  a  fine  race,  tall,  dark, 
handsome,  and  have  an  air  of  good  breeding.  Their 
dress  is  most  picturesque.  The  women  wear  a  short 
red  petticoat,  dark  jacket,  and  snowy  handkerchief 
or  scarf,  and  a  white  veil  tied  round  the  head  and 
hanging  a  little  behind.  On  fete  days  they  add  a 
gorgeous  satin  apron.  These  costumes  are  expensive. 
Their  long,  drooping,  gold  earrings  and  massive  orna- 
ments are  heirlooms,  and  their  lace  is  real.  The  men 
wear  great  jack-boots  all  the  way  up  their  legs,  a  loose 
dark  jacket,  and  red  cap  ;  they  are  fine,  stalwart  men. 
They  had  a  queen  named  Carolina,  a  handsome,  intel- 
ligent woman,  with  whom  I  made  great  friends  ;  and 
also  a  captain,  who  had  a  daughter  so  like  me  that 
when  I  used  to  go  to  the  fish-market  at  first  they 
used  to  chaff  me,  thinking  she  had  dressed  up  like  a 
lady  for  fun.  They  also  have  their  different  grades 
of  society ;  they  have  their  own  church,  built  by  them- 
selves, their  separate  weddings,  funerals,  and  christen- 


:  3  fl&eet  /IDg  H)estfnp  45 

ings.  Thev  do  not  marry  out  of  their  own  tribe  or 
associate  with  the  townspeople.  Their  language  has 
a  number  of  Spanish  and  Latin  words  in  it.  They 
have  a  strict  code  of  laws,  live  in  a  separate  part  of 
the  town  on  a  hill,  are  never  allowed  to  be  idle,  and 
are  remarkable  for  their  morality,  although  by  the 
recklessness  of  the  conduct  and  talk  of  some  of  the 
commoner  ones  you  would  scarcely  believe  it.  If  an 
accident  does  occur,  the  man  is  obliged  to  marry  the 
girl  directly.  The  upper  ones  are  most  civil  and  well 
spoken,  and  all  are  open-hearted  and  not  grasping. 
There  is  a  regular  fleet  of  smacks.  The  men  are 
always  out  fishing.  The  women  do  all  the  work  at 
home,  as  well  as  shrimping,  making  tackle,  market- 
ing, getting  their  husbands'  boats  ready  for  sea,  and 
unloading  them  on  return  ;  and  they  are  prosperous 
and  happy.  The  smacks  are  out  for  a  week  or  ten 
days,  and  have  their  regular  turn.  They  have  no 
salmon,  and  the  best  fish  is  on  our  side  of  the  water. 
The  lowest  grade  of  the  girls,  who  serve  as  kinds  of 
hacks  to  the  others,  are  the  shrimping  girls  ;  they  are 
as  vulgar  as  Billingsgate  and  as  wild  as  red  Indians. 
You  meet  them  in  parties  of  thirty  or  forty,  with  their 
clothes  kilted  nearly  up  to  their  waists  and  nets  over 
their  backs.  They  sing  songs,  and  are  sure  to  insult 
you  as  you  pass  ;  but  they  make  off  at  a  double  quick 
trot  at  the  very  name  of  Queen  Carolina. 

At  Boulogne  the  usual  lounge,  both  summer  and 
winter,  was  the  Ramparts,  which  were  extremely  pretty 
and  picturesque.  The  Ramparts  were  charming  in 
summer,  with  a  lovely  view  of  the  town;  and  a  row 


46       ttbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  3Burton 

down  the  Liane,  or  a  walk  along  its  banks,  was  not  to 
be  despised.  There  were  several  beautiful  country  walks 
in  summer.  The  peasants'  dances,  called  guinguettes, 
were  amusing  to  look  at.  The  hotels  and  table  d1  holes 
were  not  bad.  The  ivory  shops  in  the  town  were 
beautiful ;  the  bonnets,  parasols,  and  dresses  very  chic  ; 
the  bonbons  delicious.  The  market  was  a  curious, 
picturesque  little  scene.  There  were  pretty  fetes, 
religious  and  profane,  and  a  capital  carnival. 

The  good  society  we  collected  around  us  ;  but  it 
was  small,  and  never  mixed  with  the  general  society. 
The  two  winters  we  were  there  were  gay  ;  there  was 
a  sort  of  agreeable  laissez  aller  about  the  place,  and 
the  summers  were  very  pleasant.  But  mother  kept  us 
terribly  strict,  and  this  was  a  great  stimulant  to  do  wild 
things ;  and  though  we  never  did  anything  terrible, 
we  did  what  we  had  better  have  left  alone.  For 
instance,  we  girls  learned  to  smoke.  We  found  that 
father  had  got  a  very  nice  box  of  cigars,  and  we 
stole  one.  We  took  it  up  to  the  loft  and  smoked  it, 
and  were  very  sick,  and  then  perfumed  ourselves  with 
scent,  and  appeared  in  our  usual  places.  We  per- 
severed till  we  became  regular  smokers,  and  father's 
box  of  cigars  disappeared  one  by  one.  Then  the 
servants  were  accused  ;  so  we  had  to  come  forward, 
go  into  his  den,  make  him  swear  not  to  tell,  and 
confided  the  matter  to  him.  He  did  not  betray  us, 
as  he  knew  we  should  be  almost  locked  up,  and  from 
that  time  we  smoked  regularly.  People  used  to  say, 
"What  makes  those  Arundell  girls  so  pale?  They 
must  dance  too  much."  Alas,  poor  things  !  it  was  just 


JSoulogne :  5  fl&eet  /IDs  Besting  47 

the  want  of  these  innocent  recreations  that  drove  us 
to  so  dark  a  deed  ! 

I  have  already  said  that  we  were  taken  to  Boulogne 
for  masters  and  economy.  Our  house  in  the  Haute 
Ville  was  next  to  the  Convent,  and  close  to  the  future 
rising — slowly  rising — Notre  Dame.  My  sister  Blanche 
and  I  gradually  made  up  our  minds  to  this  life,  our 
European  Botany  Bay.  We  were  not  allowed  to  walk 
alone,  except  upon  the  Ramparts,  which,  however,  make 
a  good  mile  under  large  shady  trees,  with  views  from 
every  side — not  a  bad  walk  by  any  means.  Mother, 
my  sister  Blanche,  and  I  used  to  walk  once  daily  up 
the  lounge,  which  in  fine  weather  was  down  the  Grande 
Rue,  the  Rue  de  1'Ecu,  the  Quai  to  the  end  of  the 
pier  and  back  ;  but  in  winter  our  promenade  may  be 
said  to  be  confined  to  the  Grande  Rue.  There  we 
could  observe  the  notorieties  and  eccentricities  of  the 
place.  There  might  be  a  dozen  or  more  handsome 
young  men  of  good  family,  generally  with  something 
shady  about  money  hanging  over  them,  a  great  many 
pretty,  fast  girls  and  young  married  women,  a  great  deal 
of  open  flirtation,  much  attention  to  dress,  and  plenty 
of  old  half-pay  officers  with  large  families,  who  had  come 
to  Boulogne  for  the  same  reasons  as  ourselves.  If 
there  were  any  good  families,  they  lived  in  the  Haute 
Ville,  and  were  English  ;  there  were,  in  fact,  half  a 
dozen  aristocratic  English  families,  who  stuck  together 
and  would  speak  to  nobody  else.  I  have  learnt  since 
that  often  in  a  place  one  dislikes  there  will  arise 
some  circumstance  that  will  prove  the  pivot  on  which 
part,  or  the  whole,  of  one's  life  may  turn,  and  that 


48       Ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcs  JSurton 


scene,  that  town,  or  that  house  will  in  after-years 
retain  a  sacred  place  in  one's  heart  for  that  thing's 
sake,  which  a  gayer  or  a  grander  scene  could  never 
win.  And  so  it  was  with  me. 

At  this  point  it  is  necessary  to  interrupt  Isabel's  auto- 
biography, to  introduce  a  personage  who  will  hereafter 
play  a  considerable  part  in  it.  By  one  of  those  many 
coincidences  which  mark  the  life-story  of  Richard  and 
Isabel  Burton,  and  which  bear  out  in  such  a  curious 
manner  her  theory  that  they  "were  destined  to  one 
another  from  the  beginning,"  Burton  came  to  Boulogne 
about  the  same  time  as  the  Arun  dells.  This  is  not  the 
place  to  write  a  life  of  Sir  Richard  Burton  —  it  has  been 
written  large  elsewhere,1  so  that  all  who  wish  may 
read  ;  but  to  those  who  have  not  read  Lady  Burton's 
book,  the  following  brief  sketch  of  his  career  up  to 
this  time  may  be  of  interest. 

Richard  Burton  came  of  a  military  family,  and  one 
whose  sons  had  also  rendered  some  service  both  in 
Church  and  State.  He  was  the  son  of  Joseph  Netterville 
Burton,  a  lieutenant-colonel  in  the  36th  Regiment. 
He  was  born  in  1821.  He  was  the  eldest  of  three 
children  ;  the  second  was  Maria  Catherine  Eliza,  who 
married  General  Sir  Henry  Stisted;  and  the  third 
was  Edward  Joseph  Netterville,  late  Captain  in  the 
37th  Regiment  (Queen's),  who  died  insane.  Colonel 
Burton,  who  had  retired  from  the  army,  and  his 
wife  went  abroad  for  economy  when  Richard  was  only 

1  Life  of  Sir  Richard  Burton,  by  Isabel  his  wife. 


JSoulogne :  5  flDeet  fl&y  Destiny  49 

a  few  months  old,  and  they  settled  at  Tours.  Tours 
at  that  time  contained  some  two  hundred  English 
families,  who  formed  a  society  of  their  own.  These 
English  colonies  knew  little  of  Mrs.  Grundy,  and 
less  of  the  dull  provincialism  of  English  country  towns. 
Thus  Richard  grew  up  in  a  free,  Bohemian  society, 
an  influence  which  perceptibly  coloured  his  after-life. 
His  education  was  also  of  a  nature  to  develop  his 
strongly  marked  individuality.  He  was  sent  to  a 
mixed  French  and  English  school  at  Tours,  and  he 
remained  there  until  his  father  suddenly  took  it  into 
his  head  that  he  would  give  his  boys  the  benefit  of 
an  English  education,  and  returned  to  England.  But, 
instead  of  going  to  a  public  school,  Richard  was  sent 
to  a  private  preparatory  school  at  Richmond.  He 
was  there  barely  a  year,  when  his  father,  wearying  of 
Richmond  and  respectability,  and  sighing  for  the 
shooting  and  boar-hunting  of  French  forests,  felt  that 
he  had  sacrificed  enough  on  account  of  an  English 
education  for  his  boys,  and  resolved  to  bring  them 
up  abroad  under  the  care  of  a  private  tutor.  This 
resolution  he  quickly  put  into  practice,  and  a  wandering 
life  on  the  Continent  followed,  the  b ;,ys  being  educated 
as  they  went  along.  This  state  of  things  continued 
till  Richard  was  nineteen,  when,  as  he  and  his  brother 
had  got  too  old  for  further  home  training,  the  family 
broke  up. 

Richard  was  sent  to  Oxford,  and  was  entered  at 
Trinity  College,  with  the  intention  of  taking  holy 
orders  in  the  Church  of  England.  But  the  roving 
Continental  life  which  he  had  led  did  not  fit  him  for 


so       Ube  "Romance  ot  Isabel  Xaos  JSurton 

the  restraints  of  the  University.  He  hated  Oxford, 
and  he  was  not  cut  out  for  a  parson.  At  the  end  of 
the  first  year  he  petitioned  his  father  to  take  him  away. 
This  was  refused  ;  so  he  set  to  work  to  get  himself  sent 
down — a  task  which  he  accomplished  with  so  much 
success  that  the  next  term  he  was  rusticated,  with  an 
intimation  that  he  was  not  to  return.  Even  at  this 
early  period  of  his  life  the  glamour  of  the  East  was 
strong  upon  him  ;  the  only  learning  he  picked  up  at 
Oxford  was  a  smattering  of  Hindustani  ;  the  only 
thing  that  would  suit  him  when  he  was  sent  down 
was  to  go  to  India.  He  turned  to  the  East  as  the 
lotus  turns  with  the  sun.  So  his  people  procured  him 
a  commission  in  the  army,  the  Indian  service,  and  he 
sailed  for  Bombay  in  June,  1842. 

He  was  appointed  to  the  I4th  Regiment,  Bombay 
Native  Infantry,  and  he  remained  in  India  without 
coming  home  for  seven  years.  During  those  seven 
years  he  devoted  himself  heart  and  soul  to  the  study 
of  Oriental  languages  and  Oriental  habits.  He  passed 
in  ten  Eastern  languages.  His  interest  in  Oriental  life, 
and  his  strong  sympathy  with  it,  earned  him  in  his 
regiment  the  nickname  of  "  the  white  nigger."  He 
would  disguise  himself  so  effectually  that  he  would  pass 
among  Easterns  as  a  dervish  in  the  mosques  and  as 
a  merchant  in  the  bazaars.  In  1844  Richard  Burton 
went  to  Scinde  with  the  i8th  Native  Infantry,  and 
was  put  on  Sir  Charles  Napier's  staff.  Sir  Charles 
soon  turned  the  young  lieutenant's  peculiar  acquire- 
ments to  account  in  dealing  with  the  wild  tribes  around 
them.  He  accompanied  his  regiment  to  Mooltan  to 


RICHARD    BURTON    IN     1848    IN    NATIVE    DRESS.          [Page  5°. 


JSouloane:  3  /i&eet  flDy  Stestlns  51 

attack  the  Sikhs.  Yet,  notwithstanding  all  these  unique 
qualifications,  when  Richard  Burton  applied  for  the 
post  of  interpreter  to  accompany  the  second  expedition 
to  Mooltan  in  1849,  he  was  passed  over  on  account 
of  a  feeling  against  him  in  high  quarters,  on  which 
it  is  unnecessary  here  to  dwell.  This  disappointment, 
and  the  mental  and  physical  worry  and  fatigue  which 
he  had  undergone,  broke  down  his  health.  He  applied 
for  sick  leave,  and  came  home  on  a  long  furlough. 

After  a  sojourn  in  England,  he  went  to  France 
(1850)  to  join  his  family,  who  were  then  staying  at 
Boulogne,  like  the  Arundells  and  most  of  the  English 
colony,  for  change,  quiet,  and  economy.  Whilst  at 
Boulogne  he  brought  out  two  or  three  books  and 
prepared  another.  Burton  took  a  gloomy  view  of  his 
prospects  at  this  time  ;  for  he  writes,  "  My  career  in 
India  has  been  in  my  eyes  a  failure,  and  by  no  fault 
of  my  own  ;  fihe  dwarfish  demon  called  c  Interest '  has 
fought  against  me,  and  as  usual  has  won  the  fight." 
There  was  a  good  deal  of  prejudice  against  him  even 
at  Boulogne,  for  unfounded  rumours  about  him  had 
travelled  home  from  India. 

Burton,  as  it  may  be  imagined,  did  not  lead  the  life 
which  was  led  by  the  general  colony  at  Boulogne. 
"  He  had  a  little  set  of  men  friends,"  Isabel  notes  ; 
"  he  knew  some  of  the  French ;  he  had  a  great 
many  flirtations — one  very  serious  one.  He  passed 
his  days  in  literature  and  fencing.  At  home  he  was 
most  domestic  ;  his  devotion  to  his  parents,  especially 
to  his  sick  mother,  was  very  beautiful."  At  this  time 
he  was  twenty-eight  years  of  age.  The  Burton  family 


52       TTbc  Romance  of  -Jsabel  Xaog  Burton 

belonged  to  the  general  English  colony  at  Boulogne  ; 
they  were  not  intimate  with  the  creme  to  whom  the 
Miss  Arundells  belonged ;  and  as  these  young  ladies 
were  very  carefully  guarded,  it  was  some  little  time 
before  Richard  Burton  and  Isabel  Arundell  came 
together.  They  met  in  due  season ;  and  here  we 
take  up  the  thread  of  her  narrative  again. 

One  day,  when  we  were  on  the  Ramparts,  the  vision  of 
my  awakening  brain  came  towards  us.  He  was  five  feet 
eleven  inches  in  height,  very  broad,  thin,  and  muscular  : 
he  had  very  dark  hair  ;  black,  clearly  defined,  saga- 
cious eyebrows  ;  a  brown,  weather-beaten  complexion ; 
straight  Arab  features  ;  a  determined-looking  mouth  and 
chin,  nearly  covered  by  an  enormous  black  moustache. 
I  have  since  heard  a  clever  friend  say  that  "he  had 
the  brow  of  a  god,  the  jaw  of  a  devil."  But  the  most 
remarkable  part  of  his  appearance  was  two  large,  black, 
flashing  eyes  with  long  lashes,  that  pierced  one  through 
and  through.  He  had  a  fierce,  proud,  melancholy 
expression  ;  and  when  he  smiled,  he  smiled  as  though 
it  hurt  him,  and  looked  with  impatient  contempt  at 
things  generally.  He  was  dressed  in  a  black,  short, 
shaggy  coat,  and  shouldered  a  short,  thick  stick,  as  if 
he  were  on  guard. 

He  looked  at  me  as  though  he  read  me  through 
and  through  in  a  moment,  and  started  a  little.  I  was 
completely  magnetized  ;  and  when  we  had  got  a  little 
distance  away,  I  turned  to  my  sister,  and  whispered  to 
her,  "  That  man  will  marry  me."  The  next  day  he 
was  there  again,  and  he  followed  us,  and  chalked  up, 


^Boulogne :  5  fl&eet  /fc£  Destiny  53 

"  May  I  speak  to  you  ? "  leaving  the  chalk  on  the 
wall ;  so  I  took  up  the  chalk  and  wrote  back,  "  No  ; 
mother  will  be  angry  " ;  and  mother  found  it,  and  was 
angry ;  and  after  that  we  were  stricter  prisoners  than 
ever.  However,  "Destiny  is  stronger  than  custom." 
A  mother  and  a  pretty  daughter  came  to  Boulogne 
who  happened  to  be  cousins  of  my  father's ;  they 
joined  the  majority  in  the  society  sense,  and  one  day 
we  were  allowed  to  walk  on  the  Ramparts  with  them. 
There  I  met  Richard  again,  who  (agony !)  was  flirting 
with  the  daughter.  We  were  formally  introduced, 
and  his  name  made  me  start.  Like  a  flash  came  back 
to  me  the  prophecy  of  Hagar  Burton  which  she  had 
told  me  in  the  days  of  my  childhood  in  Stonymoore 
Wood  :  "  Ton  will  cross  the  sea,  and  be  in  the  same 
town  with  your  Destiny  and  know  it  not.  .  .  .  Tou 
will  bear  the  name  of  our  tribe,  and  be  right  proud  of 
it."  I  could  think  of  no  more  at  the  moment.  But 
I  stole  a  look  at  him,  and  met  his  gypsy  eyes — those 
eyes  which  looked  you  through,  glazed  over,  and  saw 
something  behind;  the  only  man  I  had  ever  seen, 
not  a  gypsy,  with  that  peculiarity.  And  again  I 
thrilled  through  and  through.  He  must  have  thought 
me  very  stupid,  for  I  scarcely  spoke  a  word  during  that 
brief  meeting. 

I  did  not  try  to  attract  his  attention ;  but  after 
that,  whenever  he  came  on  the  usual  promenade,  I 
would  invent  any  excuse  that  came  ready  to  take 
another  turn  to  watch  him,  if  he  were  not  looking. 
If  I  could  catch  the  sound  of  his  deep  voice,  it  seemed 
to  me  so  soft  and  sweet  that  I  remained  spellbound, 


54       Ube  Romance  of  Ssabel  Xaog  JSurton 

as  when  I  hear  gypsy  music.  I  never  lost  an  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  him,  when  I  could  not  be  seen  ;  and 
as  I  used  to  turn  red  and  pale,  hot  and  cold,  dizzy 
and  faint,  sick  and  trembling,  and  my  knees  used 
to  nearly  give  way  under  me,  my  mother  sent  for 
the  doctor,  to  complain  that  my  digestion  was  out 
of  order,  and  that  I  got  migraines  in  the  street ;  he 
prescribed  me  a  pill,  which  I  threw  in  the  fire.  All 
girls  will  sympathize  with  me.  I  was  struck  with 
the  shaft  of  Destiny,  but  I  had  no  hope,  being  nothing 
but  an  ugly  schoolgirl,1  of  taking  the  wind  out  of 
the  sails  of  the  dashing  creature  with  whom  Richard 
was  carrying  on  a  very  serious  flirtation. 

The  only  luxury  I  indulged  in  was  a  short  but 
heartfelt  prayer  for  him  every  morning.  I  read  all 
his  books,  and  was  seriously  struck,  as  before,  by  his 
name,  when  I  came  to  the  book  on  Jats  in  Scinde. 
The  Jats  are  the  aboriginal  gypsies  in  India. 

The  more  I  got  to  know  of  Richard,  the  more  his 
strange  likeness  to  the  gypsies  struck  me.  As  I  wrote 
to  the  Gypsy  Lore  Journal  in  1891,  it  was  not  only 
his  eyes  which  showed  the  gypsy  peculiarity  ;  he  had 
the  restlessness  which  could  stay  nowhere  long,  nor 
own  any  spot  on  earth,  the  same  horror  of  a  corpse, 
deathbed  scenes,  and  graveyards,  or  anything  which 

1  It  is  necessary  here  to  defend  Lady  Burton  against  herself. 
She  was  certainly  not  "  ugly  "  ;  for  she  was — a  friend  tells  me  who 
knew  her  at  this  time — a  tall  and  beautiful  girl,  with  fair  brown  hair, 
blue  eyes,  classic  features,  and  a  most  vivacious  and  attractive 
manner.  Nor  could  she  correctly  be  called  a  "schoolgirl";  for 
though  she  was  taking  some  finishing  lessons  in  French,  music,  etc., 
she  was  more  than  nineteen  years  of  age,  and  had  been  through  a 
London  season. 


J3oulo0ne :  5  fl&eet  /l&g  Destinp  55 

was  in  the  slightest  degree  ghoulish,  though  caring 
little  for  his  own  life,  the  same  aptitude  for  reading 
the  hand  at  a  glance.  With  many  he  would  drop 
their  hands  at  once  and  turn  away,  nor  would  anything 
induce  him  to  speak  a  word  about  them.  He  spoke 
Romany  like  the  gypsies  themselves.  Nor  did  we 
ever  enter  a  gypsy  camp  without  their  claiming  him. 
"  What  are  you  doing  with  that  black  coat  on  ?  "  they 
would  say.  "Why  don't  you  join  us  and  be  our  king?" 
Moreover,  Burton  is  one  of  the  half-dozen  distinctively 
Romany  names  ;  and  though  there  is  no  proof  whatever 
of  his  Arab  or  Romany  descent,  the  idea  that  he  had 
gypsy  blood  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  He  always 
took  a  great  interest  in  gypsy  lore,  and  prepared  a  book 
on  the  subject.  He  wrote  many  years  later  :  "  There 
is  an  important  family  of  gypsies  in  foggy  England, 
who  in  remote  times  developed  our  family  name. 
I  am  yet  on  very  friendly  terms  with  several  of  these 
strange  people  ;  nay,  a  certain  Hagar  Burton,  an  old 
fortune-teller  (divinatrice]  >  took  part  in  a  period  of  my 
life  which  in  no  small  degree  contributed  to  determine 
its  course." 

My  cousin  asked  Richard  to  write  something  for  me 
at  that  time  ;  he  did  so,  and  I  used  to  wear  it  next 
my  heart.  One  night  an  exception  was  made  to 
our  dull  rule  of  life.  My  cousins  gave  a  tea  party 
and  dance,  and  the  "  great  majority  "  flocked  in,  and 
there  was  Richard  like  a  star  among  rushlights  !  That 
was  a  night  of  nights  ;  he  waltzed  with  me  once, 
and  spoke  to  me  several  times,  and  I  kept  my  sash 
where  he  put  his  arm  round  my  waist  to  waltz,  and 


56       TCbe  TComance  ot  Isabel  Xat>£  JSurton 

my  gloves,  which  his  hands  had  clasped.  I  never 
wore  them  again.  I  did  not  know  it  then,  but  the 
"little  cherub  who  sits  up  aloft"  was  not  only  occupied 
in  taking  care  of  poor  Jack,  for  I  came  in  also  for  a 
share  of  it.  I  saw  Richard  every  now  and  again  after 
that,  but  he  was  of  course  unconscious  of  my  feelings 
towards  him.  And  I  was  evidently  awfully  sorry  for 
myself,  since  I  find  recorded  the  following  moan : 

"  If  kind  Providence  had  blessed  me  with  the  man 
I  love,  what  a  different  being  I  might  be  !  Fate  has 
used  me  hardly,  with  my  proud,  sensitive  nature  to 
rough  the  world  and  its  sharp  edges,  alone  and 
unprotected  except  by  hard  and  peremptory  rules." 

So  I  thought  then  ;  but  I  have  often  blessed  those 
rules  since.  A  woman  may  have  known  the  illusions 
of  love,  but  never  have  met  an  object  worth  all  her 
heart.  Sometimes  we  feel  a  want  of  love,  and  a  want 
to  love  with  all  our  energies.  There  is  no  man  capable 
of  receiving  this  at  the  time,  and  we  accept  the  love  of 
others  as  a  makeshift,  an  apology,  to  draw  our  intention 
from  the  painful  feeling,  and  try  to  fancy  it  is  love. 
How  much  in  this  there  is  to  fear !  A  girl  should  be 
free  and  happy  in  real  and  legitimate  love.  One  who 
is  passionate  and  capable  of  suffering  fears  to  risk  her 
heart  on  any  man.  Happy  is  she  who  meets  at  her 
first  start  the  man  who  is  to  guide  her  for  life,  whom 
she  is  always  to  love.  Some  women  grow  fastidious  in 
solitude,  and  find  it  harder  to  be  mated  than  married. 
Those  who  fear  and  respect  the  men  they  love,  those 
\\hose  judgment  and  sense  confirm  their  affection,  are 
lucky.  Every  one  has  some  mysterious  and  singular 


JSouloane :  3  fl&eet  /IDs  JDesttng  57 

idea  respecting  his  destiny.  I  asked  myself  then  if  I 
would  sacrifice  anything  and  everything  for  Richard, 
and  the  only  thing  that  I  found  I  could  not  sacrifice 
for  him  would  be  God ;  for  I  thought  I  would  as  soon, 
were  I  a  man,  forsake  my  post,  when  the  tide  of  battle 
pressed  hardest  against  it,  and  go  over  to  the  enemy, 
as  renounce  my  God.  So  having  sifted  my  unfortunate 
case,  I  soon  decided  on  a  plan  of  action.  I  could  not 
push  myself  forward  or  attract  his  notice.  It  would 
be  unmaidenly — unworthy.  I  shuddered  at  the  lonely 
and  dreary  path  I  was  taking ;  but  I  knew  that  no 
advantage  gained  by  unworthy  means  could  be  lasting 
or  solid  ;  besides,  my  conscience  was  tender,  and  I 
knew  that  the  greatest  pleasure  unlawfully  obtained 
would  eventually  become  bitter,  for  there  can  be  no 
greater  pain  than  to  despise  oneself  or  the  one  we  love. 
So  I  suffered  much  and  long  ;  and  the  name  of  the 
tribe,  as  Hagar  Burton  foretold,  caused  me  many  a 
sorrowful  and  humiliating  hour ;  but  I  rose  superior  at 
last.  They  say  that  often,  when  we  think  our  hopes 
are  annihilated,  God  is  granting  us  some  extraordinary 
favour.  It  is  said,  "  It  is  easy  to  image  the  happiness 
of  some  particular  condition,  until  we  can  be  content 
with  no  other "  ;  but  there  is  no  condition  whatever 
under  which  a  certain  degree  of  happiness  may  not 
be  attained  by  those  who  are  inclined  to  be  happy. 
Courage  consists,  not  in  hazarding  without  fear,  but 
in  being  resolutely  minded  in  a  just  cause. 

Marvel  not  at  thy  life ;  patience  shall  see 
The  perfect  work  of  wisdom  to  her  given ; 
Hold  fast  thy  soul  through  this  high  mystery, 
And  it  shall  lead  thee  to  the  gates  of  heaven. 


5«       TTbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Zaog  JSurton 

The  days  at  Boulogne  went  slowly  by.  We  used  to 
join  walking  or  picnic  parties  in  summer,  and  generally 
have  one  of  our  pleasant  big  teas  in  the  evening.  I 
joined  in  such  society  as  there  was  in  moderation,  and 
I  became  very  serious.  The  last  summer  we  had 
many  friends  staying  with  us  ;  the  house  was  quite 
like  a  hotel.  We  much  longed  to  go  to  Paris  ;  but 
in  the  winter  poor  little  baby  died,  and  mother  had 
no  spirits  for  anything.  This  last  winter  (1851-52), 
during  the  time  of  the  coup  tfetat^  there  were  eighteen 
hundred  soldiers  billeted  on  Boulogne  ;  and  the  excite- 
ment was  great,  crowds  of  people  were  rushing  about 
to  hear  the  news,  and  vans  full  of  prisoners  passing 
by.  They  were  very  violent  against  the  English  too  ; 
we  had  our  windows  broken  occasionally,  and  our  pet 
Jog  was  killed.  Carolina,  the  Poissarde  queen,  told 
us  that  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst  she  should  senrl 
us  across  to  England  in  her  husband's  fishing-smack. 
Boulogne  was  a  droll  place  ;  there  was  always  either 
something  joyous,  a  /<?/<?,  or  some  scandal  or  horror 
going  on.  It  was  a  place  of  passage,  constant  change 
of  people,  and  invariably  there  was  some  excitement 
about  something  or  other. 

Our  prescribed  two  years  were  up  at  last,  and  we  all 
agreed  that  anything  in  London  would  be  preferable 
to  Boulogne.  We  began  quietly  to  pack  up,  pay  our 
debts,  and  make  our  adieux.  We  were  sorry  to  leave 
our  little  circle  ;  they  were  also  sorry  to  part  from  us  ; 
and  the  tradespeople  and  servants  seemed  conscious  that 
they  were  about  to  lose  in  a  short  while  some  honest 
and  safe-paying  people — not  too  frequent  in  Boulogne 


^Boulogne :  3  /iDeet  /IDs  Besting  59 

— and  were  loud  in  their  regrets.  I  had  many  regrets 
in  leaving,  but  was  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  going 
home,  and  impatient  to  be  relieved  of  the  restraint  I 
was  obliged  to  impose  on  myself  about  Richard.  Yet 
at  the  same  time  I  dreaded  leaving  his  vicinity.  I  was 
sorely  sorry,  yet  glad.  All  the  old  haunts  I  visited 
for  the  last  time.  There  were  kind  friends  to  wish 
good-bye.  I  received  my  last  communion  in  the  little 
chapel  of  Our  Lady  in  the  College,  where  I  had  so 
often  knelt  and  prayed  for  Richard,  and  for  strength 
to  bear  my  sorrow  as  a  trial  from  the  hand  of  God, 
as  doubtless  it  was  for  my  good,  only  I  could  not  see 
it.  When  one  is  young,  it  is  hard  to  pine  for  some- 
thing, and  at  the  same  time  to  say,  "  Thy  will  be  done." 
I  always  prayed  Richard  might  be  mine  if  God  willed 
it,  and  if  it  was  for  his  happiness. 

I  said  good-bye  to  Carolina,  the  queen  of  the  fisher- 
women  ;  she  reminded  me  strangely  of  Hagar  Burton, 
my  gypsy.  I  wondered  how  Hagar  would  tell  her 
prophecies  now  ?  "  Chance  or  not,"  I  thought,  "  they 
are  strange  ;  and  if  ever  I  return  to  my  home,  I  will 
revisit  Stonymoore  Wood,  though  now  alone  ;  for  my 
shaggy  Sikh  is  dead,  my  pony  gone,  my  gypsy  camp 
dispersed,  my  light  heart  no  longer  light,  no  longer 
mine."  I  would  give  worlds  to  sit  again  on  the 
mossy  bank  round  the  gypsy  fire,  to  hear  that  little 
tale  as  before,  and  be  called  "  Daisy,"  and  hear  the 
prophecy  of  Hagar  that  I  should  take  the  name  of  the 
tribe.  I  listened  lightly  then  ;  but  now  that  the  name 
had  become  so  dear  I  attached  much  deeper  meaning 
to  it. 


60       ube  "Romance  ot  3sabel  Xao^  JSurton 

At  last  the  day  was  fixed  that  we  were  to  leave 
Boulogne,  May  9,  1852,  and  I  was  sorely  exercised 
in  my  mind  as  to  whether  or  no  I  should  say  good- 
bye to  Richard ;  but  I  said  to  myself,  "  When  we  leave 
this  place,  he  will  go  one  way  in  life,  and  I  another  ; 
and  who  knows  if  we  may  ever  meet  again  ? "  To 
see  him  would  be  only  to  give  myself  more  pain,  and 
therefore  I  did  not. 

We  walked  down  to  the  steamer  an  hour  or  two 
before  sailing-time,  which  would  be  two  in  the  morning. 
It  was  midnight ;  the  band  was  playing,  and  the 
steamer  was  alongside,  opposite  the  Folkestone  Hotel. 
It  was  a  beautiful  night,  so  all  our  friends  collected 
to  see  us  off,  and  we  walked  up  and  down,  and  had 
chairs  to  remain  near  the  band.  When  we  sailed,  my 
people  went  down  to  their  berths  ;  but  I  sat  near  the 
wheel,  to  watch  the  town  as  long  as  I  could  see  the 
lights,  for  after  all  it  contained  all  I  wanted,  and  who 
I  thought  I  should  never  see  more.  I  was  sad  at 
heart  ;  but  I  was  proud  of  the  way  in  which  I  had 
behaved,  and  I  could  now  rest  after  my  long  and 
weary  struggle,  suffering,  patient,  and  purified  ;  and 
though  I  would  rather  have  had  love  and  happiness, 
I  felt  that  I  was  as  gold  tried  in  the  fire.  It  is  no 
little  thing  for  a  girl  to  be  able  to  command  herself, 
to  respect  herself,  and  to  be  able  to  crush  every  petty 
feeling. 

When  I  could  see  no  more  of  Boulogne,  I  wrapped 
a  cloak  round  me,  and  jumped  into  the  lifeboat  lashed 
to  the  side,  and  I  mused  on  the  two  past  years  I  had 
been  away  from  England,  all  I  had  gone  through,  and  all 


Boulogne:  $  flfceet  /IDg  Besttng  61 

the  changes,  and  especially  how  changed  I  was  myself; 
I  felt  a  sort  of  satisfaction,  and  I  mused  on  how  much 
of  my  destiny  had  been  fulfilled.  Old  Captain  Tune, 
who  had  become  quite  a  friend  of  ours  at  Boulogne, 
came  up,  and  wanted  me  to  go  below.  I  knew  him 
well,  and  was  in  the  habit  of  joking  with  him,  and  I 
told  him  to  go  below  himself,  and  I  would  take  care  of 
the  ship  ;  so  instead  he  amused  me  by  telling  me  stories 
and  asking  me  riddles.  The  moon  went  down,  and 
the  stars  faded,  and  I  slept  well ;  and  when  I  awoke 
the  star  of  my  destiny,  my  pet  morning  star,  was 
shining  bright  and  clear,  just  <{  like  a  diamond  drop 
over  the  sea."  I  awoke,  hearing  old  Tune  say,  "  What 
a  jolly  sailor's  wife  she  would  make  !  She  never  changes 
colour."  We  lurched  terribly.  I  jumped  up  as  hungry 
as  a  hunter,  and  begged  him  to  give  me  some  food,  as 
it  wanted  four  hours  to  breakfast ;  so  he  took  me  down 
to  his  cabin,  and  gave  me  some  hot  chops  and  bread- 
and-butter,  and  said  he  would  rather  keep  me  for  a 
week  than  a  fortnight.  It  blew  freshly.  I  cannot 
describe  my  sensations  when  I  saw  the  dear  old  white 
cliffs  of  England  again,  though  I  had  only  been  away 
two  years,  and  so  near  home.  The  tears  came  into 
my  eyes,  and  my  heart  bounded  with  joy,  and  I  felt 
great  sympathy  with  all  exiled  soldiers  and  sailors,  and 
wondered  what  face  we  should  see  first.  Foreigners 
do  not  seem  to  have  that  peculiar  sensation  about 
home,  or  talk  of  their  country  as  we  do  of  ours  ;  for 
I  know  of  no  feeling  like  setting  one's  foot  on  English 
ground  again  after  a  long  absence. 


CHAPTER  V 

FOUR   YEARS  OF  HOPE  DEFERRED 
(1852—1856) 

I  was  fancy  free  and  unknew  I  love, 
But  I  fell  in  love  and  in  madness  fell; 
I  write  you  with  tears  of  eyes  so  belike, 
They  explain  my  love,  come  my  heart  to  quell. 
ALF  LAYLAH  WA  LAYLAH 

(Burton's  "  Arabian  Nights"). 

ON  leaving  Boulogne,  Isabel  saw  Richard  Burton 
no  more  for  four  years,  and  only  heard  of 
him  now  and  again  from  others  or  through  the 
newspapers.  She  went  back  to  London  with  her 
people,  and  outwardly  took  up  life  and  society  again 
much  where  she  had  left  it  two  years  before.  But 
inwardly  things  were  very  different.  She  had  gone  to 
Boulogne  an  unformed  girl  ;  she  had  left  it  a  loving 
woman.  Her  ideal  had  taken  form  and  shape ;  she 
had  met  the  only  man  in  all  the  world  whom  she  could 
love,  the  man  to  whom  she  had  been  "  destined  from 
the  beginning,"  and  her  love  for  him  henceforth 
became,  next  to  her  religion,  the  motive  power  of  her 
actions  and  the  guiding  principle  of  her  life.  All 

her  youth,   until  she  met  him,  she   had  yearned  for 

62 


four  H>ears  of  t>ope  HJeferreo  63 

something,  she  hardly  knew  what.  That  something 
had  come  to  her,  sweeter  than  all  her  young  imaginings, 
glorifying  her  life  and  flooding  her  soul  with  radiance. 
And  after  the  light  there  had  come  the  darkness ;  after 
the  joy  there  had  come  keenest  pain  ;  for  it  seemed 
that  her  love  was  given  to  one  who  did  not  return 
it — nay,  more,  who  was  all  unconscious  of  it.  But  this 
did  not  hinder  her  devotion,  though  her  maidenly 
reserve  checked  its  outward  expression.  She  had  met 
her  other  self  in  Richard  Burton.  He  was  her  affinity. 
A  creature  of  impulse  and  emotion,  there  was  a  certain 
vein  of  thought  in  her  temperament  which  responded 
to  the  recklessness  in  his  own.  She  could  no  more 
stifle  her  love  for  him  than  she  could  stifle  her  nature, 
for  the  love  she  bore  him  was  part  of  her  nature,  part 
of  herself. 

Meanwhile  she  and  her  sister  Blanche,  the  sister 
next  to  her  in  age,  had  to  take  the  place  in  society 
suited  to  young  ladies  of  their  position.  Their 
father,  Mr.  Henry  Raymond  Arundell,  though  in 
comfortable  circumstances,  was  not  a  wealthy  man  ; 
but  in  those  days  money  was  not  the  passport  to 
society,  and  the  Miss  Arundells  belonged  by  birth 
to  the  most  exclusive  aristocracy  of  Europe,  the 
Catholic  nobility  of  England,  an  aristocracy  which  has 
no  parallel,  unless  it  be  found  in  the  old  Legitimist 
families  of  France,  the  society  of  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain.  But  this  society,  though  undoubtedly 
exclusive,  was  also  undoubtedly  tiresome  to  the 
impetuous  spirit  of  Isabel,  who  chafed  at  the  restraints 
by  which  she  was  surrounded.  She  loved  liberty  ; 


64       Ube  Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JBurton 

her  soaring  spirit  beat  its  wings  against  the  prison- 
bars  of  custom  and  convention  ;  she  was  always 
yearning  for  a  wider  field.  Deep  down  in  her  heart 
was  hidden  the  secret  of  her  untold  love,  and  this 
robbed  the  zest  from  the  pleasure  she  might  otherwise 
have  taken  in  society.  Much  of  her  time  was  spent 
in  confiding  to  her  diary  her  thoughts  about  Richard, 
and  in  gleaning  together  and  treasuring  in  her  memory 
every  scrap  of  news  she  could  gather  concerning  him. 
At  the  same  time  she  was  not  idle,  nor  did  she  pine 
outwardly  after  the  approved  manner  of  love-sick 
maidens.  As  the  eldest  daughter  of  a  large  family 
she  had  plenty  to  do  in  the  way  of  home  duties,  and 
it  was  not  in  her  nature  to  shirk  any  work  which  came 
in  her  way,  but  to  do  it  with  all  her  might 

The  Miss  Arundells  had  no  lack  ot  admirers,  and 
more  than  once  Isabel  refused  or  discouraged  advan- 
tageous offers  of  marriage,  much  to  the  perplexity  of 
her  mother,  who  naturally  wished  her  daughters  to 
make  good  marriages  ;  that  is  to  say,  to  marry  men 
of  the  same  religion  as  themselves,  and  in  the  same 
world — men  who  would  make  them  good  husbands  in 
every  sense  of  the  word.  But  Isabel,  who  was  then 
twenty- one  years  of  age,  had  a  strong  will  of  her  own, 
and  very  decided  views  on  the  subject  of  marriage, 
and  she  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  all  pleadings.  Besides, 
was  she  not  guarded  by  the  talisman  of  a  hidden 
and  sacred  love  ?  In  her  diary  at  this  time  she 
writes : 

"  They  say  it  is  time  I  married  (perhaps  it  is)  ;  but 
it  is  never  time  to  marry  any  man  one  does  not  love, 


jfour  HJears  of  1bope  2>eferre&  65 

because  such  a  deed  can  never  be  undone.  Richard 
may  be  a  delusion  of  my  brain.  But  how  dull  is  reality  ! 
What  a  curse  is  a  heart !  With  all  to  make  me 
happy  I  pine  and  hanker  for  him,  my  other  half,  to 
fill  this  void,  for  I  feel  as  if  I  were  not  complete.  Is 
it  wrong  to  want  some  one  to  love  more  than  one's 
father  and  mother — one  on  whom  to  lavish  one's  best 
feelings  ?  What  will  my  life  be  alone  ?  I  cannot  marry 
any  of  the  insignificant  beings  round  me.  Where  are 
all  those  men  who  inspired  the  grandes  passions  of 
bygone  days  ?  Is  the  race  extinct  ?  Is  Richard  the 
last  of  them?  Even  so,  is  he  for  me?  They  point 
out  the  matches  I  might  make  if  I  took  the  trouble, 
but  the  trouble  I  will  not  take.  I  have  no  vocation 
to  be  a  nun.  I  do  not  consider  myself  good  enough 
to  offer  to  God.  God  created  me  with  a  warm  heart, 
a  vivid  imagination,  and  strong  passions ;  God  has 
given  me  food  for  hunger,  drink  for  thirst,  but  no 
companion  for  my  loneliness  of  heart.  If  I  could 
only  be  sure  of  dying  at  forty,  and  until  then  preserve 
youth,  health,  spirits,  and  good  looks,  I  should  be 
more  cheerful  to  remain  as  I  am.  I  cannot  separate 
myself  from  all  thought  of  Richard.  Neither  do  I 
expect  God  to  work  a  miracle  to  make  me  happy. 
To  me  there  are  three  kinds  of  marriage :  first, 
worldly  ambition ;  that  is,  marriage  for  fortune,  title, 
estates,  society  ;  secondly,  love  ;  that  is,  the  usual  pig 
and  cottage  ;  thirdly,  life,  which  is  my  ideal  of  being 
a  companion  and  wife,  a  life  of  travel,  adventure,  and 
danger,  seeing  and  learning,  with  love  to  glorify  it 
that  is  what  I  seek.  L*  amour  n'y  manquerait  pas  I 

S 


66       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaoy  Button 

"  A  sailor  leaves  his  wife  for  years,  and  is  supposed 
to  be  unfaithful  to  her  by  necessity.  The  typical 
sportsman  breakfasts  and  goes  out,  comes  home  to 
dinner,  falls  asleep  over  his  port,  tumbles  into  bed, 
and  snores  till  morning.  An  idle  and  independent 
man  who  lives  in  society  is  often  a  roue^  a  gambler, 
or  drunkard,  whose  wife  is  deserted  for  a  danseuse. 

"  One  always  pictures  the  '  proper  man '  to  be  a 
rich,  fat,  mild  lordling,  living  on  his  estate,  whence, 
as  his  lady,  one  might  rise  to  be  a  leader  of  Almack's. 
But  I  am  much  mistaken  if  I  do  not  deserve  a  better 
fate.  I  could  not  live  like  a  vegetable  in  the  country. 
I  cannot  picture  myself  in  a  white  apron,  with  a 
bunch  of  keys,  scolding  my  maids,  counting  eggs 
and  butter,  with  a  good  and  portly  husband  (I  detest 
fat  men !)  with  a  broad-brimmed  hat  and  a  large 
stomach.  And  I  should  not  like  to  marry  a  country 
squire,  nor  a  doctor,  nor  a  lawyer  (I  hear  the  parch- 
ments crackle  now),  nor  a  parson,  nor  a  clerk  in  a 
London  office.  God  help  me  !  A  dry  crust,  privations, 
pain,  danger  for  him  I  love  would  be  better.  Let  me 
go  with  the  husband  of  my  choice  to  battle,  nurse  him 
in  his  tent,  follow  him  under  the  fire  of  ten  thousand 
muskets.  I  would  be  his  companion  through  hardship 
and  trouble,  nurse  him  if  wounded,  work  for  him  in 
his  tent,  prepare  his  meals  when  faint,  his  bed  when 
weary,  and  be  his  guardian  angel  of  comfort — a  felicity 
too  exquisite  for  words !  There  is  something  in  some 
women  that  seems  born  for  the  knapsack.  How  many 
great  thoughts  are  buried  under  ordinary  circumstances, 
and  splendid  positions  exist  that  are  barren  of  them — 


jfour  l^ears  of  1bope  Deferred  67 

thoughts  that  are  stifled  from  a  feeling  that  they  are 
too  bold  to  be  indulged  in  !  I  thank  God  for  the 
blessed  gift  of  imagination,  though  it  may  be  a  source 
of  pain.  It  counteracts  the  monotony  of  life.  One 
cannot  easily  quit  a  cherished  illusion,  though  it  disgusts 
one  with  ordinary  life.  Who  has  ever  been  so  happy 
in  reality  as  in  imagination  ?  And  how  unblessed  are 
those  who  have  no  imagination,  unless  they  obtain  their 
wishes  in  reality  !  I  do  not  obtain,  so  I  seek  them  in 
illusion.  Sometimes  I  think  I  am  not  half  grateful 
enough  to  my  parents,  I  do  not  half  enough  for 
them,  considering  what  they  are  to  me.  Although  we 
are  not  wealthy,  what  do  I  lack,  and  what  kindness  do 
I  not  receive  ?  Yet  I  seem  in  a  hurry  to  leave  them. 
There  is  nothing  I  would  not  do  to  add  to  their  com- 
fort, and  it  would  grieve  me  to  the  heart  to  forsake 
them ;  and  yet  if  I  knew  for  certain  that  I  should  never 
have  my  wish,  I  should  repine  sadly.  I  love  a  good 
daughter,  and  a  good  daughter  makes  a  good  wife. 
How  can  I  reconcile  all  these  things  in  my  mind  ?  I 
am  miserable,  afraid  to  hope,  and  yet  I  dare  not  despair 
when  I  look  at  the  state  of  my  heart.  But  one  side  is 
so  heavy  as  nearly  to  sink  the  other,  and  thus  my  beaux 
jours  will  pass  away,  and  my  Ideal  Lover  will  not 
then  think  me  worth  his  while.  Shall  I  never  be  at 
rest  with  him  to  love  and  understand  me,  to  tell 
every  thought  and  feeling,  in  far  different  scenes  from 
these — under  canvas  before  Rangoon — anywhere  in 
Nature  ? 

"  I  would  have  every  woman  marry ;  not  merely  liking 
a  man  well  enough  to  accept  him  for  a  husband,  as 


68       ube  IRomance  ot  Isabel  Xat>s  3Burton 

some  of  our  mothers  teach  us,  and  so  cause  many 
unhappy  marriages,  but  loving  him  so  holily  that, 
wedded  or  not  wedded,  she  feels  she  is  his  wife  at  heart. 
But  perfect  love,  like  perfect  beauty,  is  rare.  I  would 
have  her  so  loyal,  that,  though  she  sees  all  his  little 
faults  herself,  she  takes  care  no  one  else  sees  them  ;  yet 
she  would  as  soon  think  of  loving  him  less  for  them 
as  ceasing  to  look  up  to  heaven  because  there  were  a 
few  clouds  in  the  sky.  I  would  have  her  so  true,  so 
fond,  that  she  needs  neither  to  burthen  him  with  her 
love  nor  vex  him  with  her  constancy,  since  both  are 
self-existent,  and  entirely  independent  of  anything  he 
gives  or  takes  away.  Thus  she  will  not  marry  him 
for  liking,  esteem,  gratitude  for  his  love,  but  from  the 
fulness  of  her  own  love.  If  Richard  and  I  never 
marry,  God  will  cause  us  to  meet  in  the  next  world  ; 
we  cannot  be  parted  ;  we  belong  to  one  another. 
Despite  all  I  have  seen  of  false,  foolish,  weak  attach- 
ments, unholy  marriages,  the  after-life  of  which  is 
rendered  unholier  still  by  struggling  against  the  inevit- 
able, still  I  believe  in  the  one  true  love  that  binds 
a  woman's  heart  faithful  to  one  man  in  this  life,  and, 
God  grant  it,  in  the  next.  All  this  I  am  and  could 
be  for  one  man.  But  how  worthless  should  I  be  to 
any  other  man  but  Richard  Burton  !  I  should  love 
Richard's  wild,  roving,  vagabond  life  ;  and  as  I  am 
young,  strong,  and  hardy,  with  good  nerves,  and  no  fine 
notions,  I  should  be  just  the  girl  for  him  ;  I  could 
never  love  any  one  who  was  not  daring  and  spirited. 
I  always  feel  inclined  to  treat  the  generality  of  men 
just  like  my  own  sex.  I  am  sure  I  am  not  born  for 


69 

a  jog-trot  life;  I  am  too  restless  and  romantic.  I 
believe  my  sister  and  I  have  now  as  much  excitement 
and  change  as  most  girls,  and  yet  I  find  everything 
slow.  I  long  to  rush  round  the  world  in  an  express  ; 
I  feel  as  if  I  shall  go  mad  if  I  remain  at  home.  Now 
with  a  soldier  of  fortune,  and  a  soldier  at  heart,  one 
would  go  everywhere,  and  lead  a  life  worth  living. 
What  others  dare  I  can  dare.  And  why  should  I 
not?  I  feel  that  we  women  simply  are  born,  marry, 
and  die.  Who  misses  us  ?  Why  should  we  not  have 
some  useful,  active  life?  Why,  with  spirits,  brains, 
and  energies,  are  women  to  exist  upon  worsted  work 
and  household  accounts  ?  It  makes  me  sick,  and  I 
will  not  do  it" 

In  the  meantime  Richard  Burton,  all  unconscious 
of  the  love  he  had  inspired,  had  gone  on  his  famous 
pilgrimage  to  Mecca.  As  we  have  seen,  he  was  home 
from  India  on  a  long  furlough. ;  but  his  active  mind 
revolted  against  the  tame  life  he  was  leading,  and 
craved  for  adventure  and  excitement.  He  was  not 
of  the  stuff  to  play  the  part  of  petit  maitre  in  the 
second-rate  society  of  Boulogne.  So  he  determined 
to  carry  out  his  long-cherished  project  of  studying 
the  "inner  life  of  Moslem,"  a  task  for  which  he 
possessed  unique  qualifications.  Therefore,  soon  after 
the  Arundells  had  left  Boulogne,  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  go  to  Mecca.  He  obtained  a  year's  further  leave 
to  carry  out  his  daring  project.  In  1853  he  left 
England  disguised  as  a  Persian  Mirza,  a  disguise 
which  he  assumed  with  so  much  success  that,  when 


70       Ube  IRomance  of  -Jsabel  Xaos  Burton 

he  landed  at  Alexandria,  he  was  recognized  and  blessed 
as  a  true  Moslem  by  the  native  population.  From 
Alexandria  he  went  to  Cairo  disguised  as  a  dervish, 
and  lived  there  some  months  as  a  native.  Thence  he 
travelled  to  Suez,  and  crossed  in  an  open  boat  with  a 
party  of  Arab  pilgrims  to  Yambu.  The  rest  of  his 
dare-devil  adventures  and  hair-breadth  escapes — how 
he  attached  himself  to  the  Damascus  caravan  and 
journeyed  with  the  pilgrims  to  Mecca  in  spite  of  the 
fiery  heat  and  the  scorching  sands,  how  he  braved 
many  dangers  and  the  constant  dread  of  "  detection  " 
— is  written  by  him  in  his  Pilgrimage  to  Mecca  and  El 
Medinah,  and  is  touched  upon  again  in  Lady  Burton's 
Life  of  her  husband.  The  story  needs  no  re-telling 
here.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  Burton  was  the  first  man 
not  a  Mussulman  who  penetrated  to  the  innermost 
sanctuary  of  Moslem,  and  saw  the  shrine  where  the 
coffin  of  Mohammed  swings  between  heaven  and  earth. 
He  did  the  circumambulation  at  the  Harem  ;  he  was 
admitted  to  the  house  of  our  Lord ;  he  went  to  the 
well  Zemzem,  the  holy  water  of  Mecca;  he  visited 
Ka'abah,  the  holy  grail  of  the  Moslems,  and  kissed  the 
famous  black  stone  ;  he  spent  the  night  in  the  Mosque  ; 
and  he  journeyed  to  Arafat  and  saw  the  reputed  tomb 
of  Adam.  He  was  not  a  man  to  do  things  by  halves, 
and  he  inspected  Mecca  thoroughly,  absolutely  living 
the  life  of  the  Mussulman,  adopting  the  manners, 
eating  the  food,  wearing  the  clothes,  conforming  to 
the  ritual,  joining  in  the  prayers  and  sacrifices,  and 
speaking  the  language.  He  did  all  this,  literally 
carrying  his  life  in  his  hand,  for  at  any  moment  he 


BURTON    ON    HIS    I'll. GKIM  AGE    TO    MECCA. 


[Page  70. 


jfour  HJears  of  t>ope  Deferred  71 

might  have  been  detected — one  false  step,  one  hasty 
word,  one  prayer  unsaid,  one  trifling  custom  of  the 
shibboleth  omitted,  and  the  dog  of  an  infidel  who  had 
dared  to  profane  the  sanctuary  of  Mecca  and  Medinah 
would  have  been  found  out,  and  his  bones  would 
have  whitened  the  desert  sand.  Quite  apart  from 
the  physical  fatigue,  the  mental  strain  must  have  been 
acute.  But  Burton  survived  it  all,  and  departed  from 
Mecca  as  he  came,  slowly  wending  his  way  with  a  cara- 
van across  the  desert  to  Jeddah,  whence  he  returned  up 
the  Red  Sea  to  Egypt.  There  he  sojourned  for  a  space  ; 
but  his  leave  being  up,  he  returned  to  Bombay. 

The  news  of  his  marvellous  pilgrimage  was  soon 
noised  abroad,  and  travelled  home  ;  all  sorts  of  rumours 
flew  about,  though  it  was  not  until  the  following  year 
that  his  book,  giving  a  full  and  detailed  account  of  his 
visit  to  Mecca,  came  out.  Burton's  name  was  on  the 
lips  of  many.  But  he  was  in  India,  and  did  not  come 
home  to  reap  the  reward  of  his  daring,  nor  did  he 
know  that  one  faithful  heart  was  full  of  joy  and 
thanksgiving  at  his  safety  and  pride  at  his  renown. 
He  did  not  know  that  the  "  little  girl "  he  had  met 
now  and  again  casually  at  Boulogne  was  thinking  of 
him  every  hour  of  the  day,  dreaming  of  him  every 
night,  praying  every  morning  and  evening  and  at  the 
altar  of  her  Lord,  with  all  the  fervour  of  her  pure  soul, 
that  God  would  keep  him  now  and  always,  and  bring 
him  back  safe  and  sound,  and  in  His  own  good  time 
teach  him  to  love  her.  He  did  not  know.  How 
could  he?  He  had  not  yet  sounded  the  height,  depth, 
and  breadth  of  a  woman's  love.  And  yet,  who  shall 


72       Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  JSurton 

say  that  her  supplications  were  unheeded  before  the 
throne  of  God  ?  Who  shall  say  that  it  was  not 
Isabel's  prayers,  quite  as  much  as  Richard  Burton's 
skill  and  daring,  which  shielded  him  from  danger 
and  detection  and  carried  him  safe  through  all? 

In  Isabel's  diary  at  this  time  there  occurs  the  fol- 
lowing note : 

"  Richard  has  just  come  back  with  flying  colours 
from  Mecca  ;  but  instead  of  coming  home,  he  has  gone 
to  Bombay  to  rejoin  his  regiment.  I  glory  in  his  glory. 
God  be  thanked  !  " 

Then  a  sense  of  desolation  and  hopelessness  sweeps 
over  her  soul,  for  she  writes  : 

"  But  I  am  alone  and  unloved.  Love  can  illumine 
the  dark  roof  of  poverty,  and  can  lighten  the  fetters 
of  a  slave  ;  the  most  miserable  position  of  humanity 
is  tolerable  with  its  support,  and  the  most  splendid 
irksome  without  its  inspiration.  Whatever  harsher 
feelings  life  may  develop,  there  is  no  one  whose  brow 
will  not  grow  pensive  at  some  tender  reminiscence, 
whose  heart  will  not  be  touched.  Oh  if  I  could  but 
go  through  life  trusting  one  faithful  heart  and  pressing 
one  dear  hand  !  Is  there  no  hope  for  me  ?  I  am  so 
full  of  faith.  Is  there  no  pity  for  so  much  love  ?  It 
makes  my  heart  ache,  this  future  of  desolation  and 
distress  ;  it  ever  flits  like  the  thought  of  death  before 
my  eyes.  There  is  no  more  joy  for  me  ;  the  lustre 
of  life  is  gone.  How  swiftly  my  sorrow  followed  my 
joy  !  I  can  laugh,  dance,  and  sing  as  others  do,  but 
there  is  a  dull  gnawing  always  at  my  heart  that  wearies 
me.  There  is  an  end  of  love  for  me,  and  of  all  the 


f our  l^ears  of  f)ope  H>eferre&  73 

bright  hopes  that  make  the  lives  of  other  girls  happy 
and  warm  and  pleasant." 

Burton  did  not  stay  long  at  Bombay  after  he  rejoined 
his  regiment.  He  was  not  popular  in  it,  and  he  dis- 
liked the  routine.  Something  of  the  old  prejudice 
against  him  in  certain  quarters  was  revived.  The 
East  India  Company,  in  whose  service  he  was,  had 
longed  wished  to  explore  Harar  in  Somaliland, 
Abyssinia;  but  it  was  inhabited  by  a  very  wild  and 
savage  people,  and  no  white  man  had  ever  dared  to 
enter  it.  So  it  was  just  the  place  for  Richard  Burton, 
and  he  persuaded  the  Governor  of  Bombay  to  sanction 
an  expedition  to  Harar  ;  and  with  three  companions, 
Lieutenant  Herne,  Lieutenant  Stroyan,  and  Lieutenant 
Speke,  he  started  for  Harar. 

From  her  watch-tower  afar  off,  Isabel,  whose  ceaseless 
love  followed  him  night  and  day,  notes  : 

"And  now  Richard  has  gone  to  Harar,  a  deadly 
expedition  or  a  most  dangerous  one,  and  I  am  full  of 
sad  forebodings.  Will  he  never  come  home  ?  How 
strange .  it  all  is,  and  how  I  still  trust  in  Fate  !  The 
Crimean  War  is  declared,  and  troops  begin  to  go  out." 

When  Burton's  little  expedition  arrived  at  Aden 
en  route  for  Harar,  the  four  men  who  composed  it 
parted  and  resolved  to  enter  Harar  by  different  ways. 
Speke  failed  ;  Herne  and  Stroyan  succeeded.  Burton 
reserved  for  himself  the  post  of  danger.  Harar  was 
as  difficult  to  enter  as  Mecca;  there  was  a  tradition 
there  that  when  the  first  white  man  entered  the  city 
Harar  would  fall.  Nevertheless,  after  a  journey 
of  four  months  through  savage  tribes  and  the  desert, 


74       ttbe  IRomancc  of  Isabel  Xao£  Burton 

Burton  entered  it  disguised  as  an  Arab  merchant,  and 
stayed  there  ten  days.1  He  returned  to  Aden.  Five 
weeks  later  he  got  up  a  new  expedition  to  Harar  on 
a  much  larger  scale,  with  which  he  wanted  to  pro- 
ceed Nilewards.  The  expedition  sailed  for  Berberah. 
Arriving  there,  the  four  leaders,  Burton,  Speke,  Stroyan, 
and  Herne,  went  ashore  and  pitched  their  tent,  leaving 
the  others  on  board.  At  night  they  were  surprised  by 
more  than  three  hundred  Somali,  and  after  desperate 
fighting  cut  their  way  back  to  the  boat.  Stroyan 
was  killed,  Herne  untouched,  and  Speke  and  Burton 
wounded. 

A  little  later  the  following  note  occurs  in  Isabel's 
diary  : 

"  We  got  the  news  of  Richard's  magnificent  ride 
to  Harar,  of  his  staying  ten  days  in  Harar,  of  his 
wonderful  ride  back,  his  most  daring  expedition,  and 
then  we  heard  of  the  dreadful  attack  by  the  natives 
in  his  tent,  and  how  Stroyan  was  killed,  Herne  un- 
touched, Speke  with  eleven  wounds,  and  Richard  with 
a  lance  through  his  jaw.  They  escaped  in  a  native 
dhow  to  Aden,  and  it  was  doubtful  whether  Richard 
would  recover.  Doubtless  this  is  the  danger  alluded 
to  by  the  clairvoyant,  and  the  cause  of  my  horrible 
dreams  concerning  him  about  the  time  it  happened. 
I  hope  to  Heaven  he  will  not  go  back  !  How  can  I 
be  grateful  enough  for  his  escape  !  " 

Burton  did  not  go  back.  He  was  so  badly  wounded 
that  he  had  to  return  to  England  on  sick  leave,  and 
sorely  discomfited.  Here  his  wounds  soon  healed,  and 
1  Vide  Burton's  First  Footsteps  in  Africa. 


75 

he  regained  his  health.  He  read  an  account  of  his 
journey  to  Harar  before  the  Royal  Geographical  Society; 
but  the  paper  attracted  little  or  no  attention,  one  reason 
being  that  the  public  interest  was  at  that  time  absorbed 
in  the  Crimean  War.  Strange  to  say,  the  paper,  until 
it  was  over,  did  not  reach  the  ears  of  Isabel,  nor  did 
she  once  see  the  man  on  whom  all  her  thoughts  were 
fixed  during  his  stay  in  England.  It  was  of  course 
impossible  for  her  to  take  the  initiative.  Moreover, 
Burton  was  invalided  most  of  the  time,  and  in  London 
but  little.  His  visit  to  England  was  a  short  one.  After 
a  month's  rest  he  obtained  leave — after  considerable 
difficulty,  for  he  was  no  favourite  with  the  War  Office — 
to  start  for  the  Crimea,  and  reached  there  in  October, 
1854.  He  had  some  difficulty  in  obtaining  a  post,  but 
at  last  he  became  attached  to  General  Beatson's  staff,  and 
was  the  organizer  of  the  Irregular  Cavalry  (Beatson's 
Horse :  the  Bashi-bazouks),  a  fact  duly  noted  in  Isabel's 
diary. 

The  winter  of  1854-55  was  a  terrible  one  for  our 
troops  in  the  Crimea,  and  public  feeling  in  England 
was  sorely  exercised  by  the  account  of  their  sufferings 
and  privations.  The  daughters  of  England  were  not 
backward  in  their  efforts  to  aid  the  troops.  Florence 
Nightingale  and  her  staff  of  nurses  were  doing  their 
noble  work  in  the  army  hospitals  at  Scutari ;  and  it 
was  characteristic  of  Isabel  that  she  should  move  heaven 
and  earth  to  join  them.  In  her  journal  at  this  time  we 
find  the  following  : 

"  It  has  been  an  awful  winter  in  the  Crimea.  I  have 
given  up  reading  the  Times  ;  it  makes  me  so  miserable, 


/6       TTbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JSurton 

and  one  is  so  impotent.  I  have  made  three  struggles 
to  be  allowed  to  join  Florence  Nightingale.  How  I 
envy  the  women  who  are  allowed  to  go  out  as  nurses ! 
I  have  written  again  and  again  to  Florence  Nightingale  ; 
but  the  superintendent  has  answered  me  that  I  am  too 
young  and  inexperienced,  and  will  not  do." 

But  she  could  not  be  idle.  She  could  not  sit  with 
folded  hands  and  think  of  her  dear  one  and  her  brave 
countrymen  out  yonder  suffering  untold  privations, 
and  do  nothing.  It  was  not  enough  for  her  to  weep 
and  hope  and  pray.  So  the  next  thing  she  thought 
of  was  a  scheme  for  aiding  the  almost  destitute  wives 
and  families  of  the  soldiers,  a  work  which,  if  she  had 
done  nothing  else,  should  be  sufficient  to  keep  her 
memory  green,  prompted  as  it  was  by  that  generous, 
loving  heart  of  hers,  which  ever  found  its  chiefest 
happiness  in  doing  good  to  others.  She  thus  describes 
her  scheme  : 

"  I  set  to  work  to  form  a  girls'  club  composed  of 
girls.  My  plan  was  to  be  some  little  use  at  home. 
First  it  was  called  the  *  Whistle  Club,'  because  we 
all  had  tiny  silver  whistles  ;  and  then  we  changed  it 
to  the  '  Stella  Club,'  in  honour  of  the  morning  star — 
my  star.  Our  principal  object  was  to  do  good  at  home 
amongst  the  destitute  families  of  soldiers  away  in  the 
Crimea  ;  to  do  the  same  things  as  those  we  would  have 
done  if  we  had  the  chance  out  yonder  amongst  the 
soldiers  themselves.  We  started  a  subscription  soup- 
cauldron  and  a  clothing  collection,  and  we  got  from 
the  different  barracks  a  list  of  the  women  and  their 
children  married,  with  or  without  leave.  We  ascertained 


jfour  IJears  of  t>ope  Deferred  77 

their  real  character  and  situations,  and  no  destitute 
woman  was  to  be  left  out,  nor  any  difference  made 
on  account  of  religion.  The  women  were  to  have 
employment ;  the  children  put  to  schools  according  to 
their  respective  religions,  and  sent  to  their  own  churches. 
Lodging,  food,  and  clothes  were  given  according  to 
our  means,  and  words  of  comfort  to  all,  teaching  the 
poor  creatures  to  trust  in  God  for  themselves  and  their 
husbands  at  the  war — the  only  One  from  whom  we 
could  all  expect  mercy.  We  undertook  the  wives  and 
families  of  all  regiments  of  the  Lifeguards  and  Blues 
and  the  three  Guards'  regiments.  We  went  the  rounds 
twice  a  week,  and  met  at  the  club  once  a  week.  There 
were  three  girls  to  each  locality  ;  all  of  us  dressed 
plainly  and  behaved  very  quietly,  and  acknowledged 
no  acquaintances  while  going  our  rounds.  We  carried 
this  out  to  the  letter,  and  I  cannot  attempt  to  describe 
the  scenes  of  misery  we  saw,  nor  the  homes  that  we 
saved,  nor  the  gratitude  of  the  soldiers  later  when  they 
returned  from  the  war  and  found  what  we  had  done. 
It  has  been  a  most  wonderful  success,  and  I  am  very 
happy  at  having  been  of  some  use.  The  girls  responded 
to  the  rules,  which  were  rigorously  carried  out ;  and 
when  I  look  at  my  own  share  of  the  business,  and 
multiply  that  by  a  hundred  and  fifty  girls,  I  think 
the  good  done  must  have  been  great.  In  ten  days, 
by  shillings  and  sixpences,  I  alone  collected  a  hundred 
guineas,  not  counting  what  the  others  did.  My  beat 
contained  one  hundred  women  of  all  creeds  and  situa- 
tions, and  about  two  hundred  children.  I  spared  no 
time  nor  exertions  over  and  above  the  established  rules. 


78       Ube  Romance  of  Isabel  Xa&s  JSurton 

I   read  and  wrote  their  letters,  visited   the   sick   and 
dying,  and  did  a  number  of  other  things. 

"  I  know  now  the  misery  of  London,  and  in  making 
my  rounds  I  could  give  details  that  would  come  up 
to  some  of  the  descriptions  in  'The  Mysteries  of  Paris 
or  a  shilling  shocker.  In  many  cellars,  garrets,  and 
courts  policemen  warned  me  not  to  enter,  and  told 
me  that  four  or  five  of  them  could  not  go  in 
without  being  attacked  ;  but  I  always  said  to  them, 
'You  go  to  catch  some  rogue,  but  I  go  to  take  the 
women  something  ;  they  will  not  hurt  me ;  but  I  should 
be  glad  if  you  waited  outside  in  case  I  do  not  come 
out  again.'  But  the  ruffians  hanging  about  soon 
learnt  my  errand,  and  would  draw  back,  touch  their 
caps,  move  anything  out  of  my  way,  and  give  me  a 
kind  good-day  as  I  passed,  or  show  me  to  any  door 
that  I  was  not  sure  of.  Some  people  have  been  a  little 
hard  on  me  for  being  the  same  to  the  fallen  women  as 
to  the  good  ones.  But  I  do  hate  the  way  we  women 
come  down  upon  each  other.  Those  who  are  the 
loudest  in  severity  are  generally  the  first  to  fall  when 
temptation  comes  :  and  who  of  us  might  not  do  so 
but  for  God's  grace  ?  I  like  simplicity  and  large-minded 
conduct  in  all  things,  whether  it  be  in  a  matter  of 
religion  or  heart  or  the  world,  and  I  think  the  more 
one  knows  the  simpler  one  acts.  I  have  the  consola- 
tion of  knowing  that  all  the  poor  women  are  now  doing 
well  and  earning  an  honest  livelihood,  the  children 
fed,  clothed  and  lodged,  educated  and  brought  up  in 
the  fear  and  love  of  God,  and  in  many  a  soldier's 
home  my  name  is  coupled  with  a  blessing  and  a 


jfour  J^ears  of  1bope  H>eferre&  79 

prayer.  They  send  me  a  report  of  themselves  now 
once  a  month,  and  I  love  the  salute  of  many  an  honest 
and  brave  fellow  as  he  passes  me  in  the  street  with  his 
medal  and  clasps,  and  many  have  said,  '  But  for  you 
I  should  have  found  no  home  on  my  return.' ' 

After  the  fall  of  Sebastopol  the  war  was  virtually 
at  an  end,  and  the  allied  armies  wintered  amid  its 
ruins.  The  treaty  of  peace  was  signed  at  Paris  on 
March  30,  1856.  Five  months  before  the  signing  of 
the  treaty  Richard  Burton  returned  home  with  General 
Beatson,  his  commander-in-chief,  who  was  then  in- 
volved in  an  unfortunate  controversy.  An  evil  genius 
seemed  to  follow  Burton's  military  career,  and  it  pursued 
him  from  India  to  the  Crimea.  He  managed  to 
enrage  Lord  Stratford  so  much  that  he  called  him 
"  the  most  impudent  man  in  the  Bombay  army."  He 
was  certainly  one  of  the  most  unlucky,  even  in  his 
choice  of  chiefs.  Sir  Charles  Napier,  under  whom 
he  served  in  India,  was  far  from  popular  with  his 
superiors ;  and  General  Beatson  was  always  in  hot 
water.  The  Beatson  trial  was  the  result  of  one  of  the 
many  muddles  which  arose  during  the  Crimean  War  ; 
it  took  place  in  London  in  the  spring  (1856),  and 
Burton  gave  evidence  in  favour  of  his  chief.  But  this 
is  by  the  way.  What  we  are  chiefly  concerned  with 
is  the  following  line  in  Isabel's  diary,  written  soon  after 
his  return  to  England  : 

"  I  hear  that  Richard  has  come  home,  and  is  in  town. 
God  be  praised  !  " 

That  which  followed  will  be  told  in  her  own  words. 


CHAPTER  VI 

RICHARD  LOVES  MB 

(1856-1857) 

Daughter  of  nobles,  who  thine  aim  shall  gain, 
Hear  gladdest  news,  nor  fear  aught  hurt  or  bane; 
ALF  LAYLAH  WA  LAYLAH 

(Burton's  "Arabian  Nights"). 

NOW  this  is  what  occurred.  When  Richard  was 
well  home  from  the  Crimea,  and  had  attended 
Beatson's  trial,  he  began  to  turn  his  attention  to  the 
"  Unveiling  of  Isis  "  ;  in  other  words,  to  discover  the 
sources  of  the  Nile,  the  lake  regions  of  Central 
Africa,  on  which  his  heart  had  long  been  set ;  and  he 
passed  most  of  his  time  in  London  working  it  up. 

We  did  not  meet  for  some  months  after  his  return, 
though  we  were  both  in  London,  he  planning  his 
Central  African  expedition,  and  I  involved  in  the 
gaieties  of  the  season ;  for  we  had  a  gay  season 
that  year,  every  one  being  glad  that  the  war  was 
over.  In  June  I  went  to  Ascot.  There,  amid  the 
crowd  of  the  racecourse,  I  met  Hagar  Burton,  the  gypsy, 
for  the  first  time  after  many  years,  and  I  shook  hands 

with  her.     "  Are  you  Daisy  Burton  yet  ? "   was  her 

80 


IRicbaro  Xoves  /toe  81 

first  question.  I  shook  my  head.  "  Would  to  God 
I  were  !  "  Her  face  lit  up.  "  Patience  ;  it  is  just 
coming."  She  waved  her  hand,  for  at  that  moment 
she  was  rudely  thrust  from  the  carriage.  I  never  saw 
her  again,  but  I  was  engaged  to  Richard  two  months 
later.  It  came  in  this  wise. 

One  fine  day  in  August  I  was  walking  in  the 
Botanical  Gardens  with  my  sister.  Richard  was  there. 
We  immediately  stopped  and  shook  hands,  and  asked 
each  other  a  thousand  questions  of  the  four  intervening 
years ;  and  all  the  old  Boulogne  memories  and  feelings 
returned  to  me.  He  asked  me  if  I  came  to  the 
Gardens  often.  I  said,  "Oh  yes,  we  always  come  and 
read  and  study  here  from  eleven  to  one,  because  it  is 
so  much  nicer  than  studying  in  the  hot  room  at  this 
season."  "  That  is  quite  right,"  he  said.  "  What  are 
you  studying  ?  "  I  held  up  the  book  I  had  with  me 
that  day,  an  old  friend,  Disraeli's  Tancred,  the  book 
of  my  heart  and  taste,  which  he  explained  to  me.  We 
were  in  the  Gardens  about  an  hour,  and  when  I  had 
to  leave  he  gave  me  a  peculiar  look,  as  he  did  at 
Boulogne.  I  hardly  looked  at  him,  yet  I  felt  it,  and 
had  to  turn  away.  When  I  got  home,  my  mind  was 
full  of  wonder  and  presentiment  ;  I  felt  frightened  and 
agitated ;  and  I  looked  at  myself  in  the  glass  and 
thought  myself  a  fright ! 

Next  morning  we  went  to  the  Botanical  Gardens 
again.  When  we  got  there,  he  was  there  too,  alone, 
composing  some  poetry  to  show  to  Monckton  Milnes 
on  some  pet  subject.  He  came  forward,  and  said 
laughingly,  "  You  won't  chalk  up  c  Mother  will  be 

6 


82       Ube  Romance  of  Isabel  Xao^  JSurton 

angry/  as  you  did  when  you  were  at  Boulogne,  when 
I  used  to  want  to  speak  to  you."  So  we  walked  and 
talked  over  old  times  and  people  and  things  in  general. 

About  the  third  day  his  manner  gradually  altered 
towards  me  ;  we  had  begun  to  know  each  other,  and 
what  might  have  been  an  ideal  love  before  was  now 
a  reality.  This  went  on  for  a  fortnight.  I  trod 
on  air. 

At  the  end  of  a  fortnight  he  stole  his  arm  round 
my  waist,  and  laid  his  cheek  against  mine  and  asked 
me,  "  Could  you  do  anything  so  sickly  as  to  give  up 
civilization  ?  And  if  I  can  get  the  Consulate  of  Damascus, 
will  you  marry  me  and  go  and  live  there  ?  "  He  said, 
,f  Do  not  give  me  an  answer  now,  because  it  will  mean 
a  very  serious  step  for  you — no  less  than  giving  up 
your  people  and  all  that  you  are  used  to,  and  living 
the  sort  of  life  that  Lady  Hester  Stanhope  led.  I  see 
the  capabilities  in  you,  but  you  must  think  it  over." 
I  was  Jong  silent  from  emotion  ;  it  was  just  as  if  the 
moon  had  tumbled  down  and  said,  "  You  have  cried 
for  me  for  so  long  that  I  have  come."  But  he,  who 
did  not  know  of  my  long  love,  thought  I  was  thinking 
worldly  thoughts,  and  said,  "  Forgive  me  ;  I  ought  not 
to  have  asked  so  much."  At  last  I  found  voice,  and 
said,  "  I  do  not  want  to  think  it  over — I  have  been 
thinking  it  over  for  six  years,  ever  since  I  first  saw 
you  at  Boulogne.  I  have  prayed  for  you  every  morning 
and  night,  I  have  followed  all  your  career  minutely, 
I  have  read  every  word  you  ever  wrote,  and  I  would 
rather  have  a  crust  and  a  tent  with  you  than  be  queen 
of  all  the  world  ;  and  so  I  say  now,  *  Yes,  yes^  YES  !  ' 


KHcbarfc  Xoves  flDe  83 

I  will  pass  over  the  next  few  minutes.  .  .  . 

Then  he  said,  "Your  people  will  not  give  you 
to  me."  I  answered,  "I  know  that,  but  I  belong  to 
myself — I  give  myself  away."  "  That  is  all  right," 
he  answered  ;  "  be  firm,  and  so  shall  I." 

I  would  have  suffered  six  years  more  for  such  a  day, 
such  a  moment  as  this.  All  past  sorrow  was  forgotten 
in  it.  All  that  has  been  written  or  said  on  the  subject 
of  the  first  kiss  is  trash  compared  to  the  reality.  Men 
might  as  well  undertake  to  describe  Eternity.  I  then 
told  him  all  about  my  six  years  since  I  first  met  him, 
and  all  that  I  had  suffered. 

When  I  got  home,  I  knelt  down  and  prayed,  and  my 
whole  soul  was  flooded  with  joy  and  thanksgiving.  A 
few  weeks  ago  I  little  thought  what  a  change  would 
take  place  in  my  circumstances.  Now  I  mused  thus  : 
"  Truly  we  never  know  from  one  half-hour  to  another 
what  will  happen.  Life  is  like  travelling  in  an  open 
carriage  with  one's  back  to  the  horses — you  see  the 
path,  you  have  an  indistinct  notion  of  the  sides,  but 
none  whatever  of  where  you  are  going.  If  ever  any  one 
had  an  excuse  for  superstition  and  fatalism,  I  have. 
Was  it  not  foretold  ?  And  now  I  have  gained  half  the 
desire  of  my  life  :  he  loves  me.  But  the  other  half 
remains  unfulfilled  :  he  wants  to  marry  me  !  Perhaps 
I  must  not  regret  the  misery  that  has  spoilt  the  six  best 
years  of  my  life.  But  must  I  wait  again  ?  What  can  I 
do  to  gain  the  end  ?  Nothing  !  My  whole  heart  and 
mind  is  fixed  on  this  marriage.  If  I  cared  less,  I  could 
plan  some  course  of  action;  but  my  heart  and  head  are 
not  cool  enough.  Providence  and  fate  must  decide  my 


84        ZEbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcs  JSurton 


future.  I  feel  all  my  own  weakness  and  nothingness.  I 
am  as  humble  as  a  little  child.  Richard  has  the  upper 
hand  now,  and  I  feel  that  I  have  at  last  met  the  master 
who  can  subdue  me.  They  say  it  is  better  to  marry 
one  who  loves  and  is  subject  to  you  than  one  whose 
slave  you  are  through  love.  But  I  cannot  agree  to  this. 
Where  in  such  a  case  is  the  pleasure,  the  excitement,  the 
interest  ?  In  one  sense  I  have  no  more  reason  to  fear 
for  my  future,  now  that  the  load  of  shame,  wounded 
pride,  and  unrequited  affection  is  lifted  from  my  brow 
and  soul.  He  loves  me  —  that  is  enough  to-day." 

After  this  Richard  visited  a  little  at  our  house  as 
an  acquaintance,  having  been  introduced  at  Boulogne  ; 
and  he  fascinated,  amused,  and  pleasantly  shocked  my 
mother,  but  completely  magnetized  my  father  and  all 
my  brothers  and  sisters.  My  father  used  to  say,  "  I  do 
not  know  what  it  is  about  that  man,  but  I  cannot  get 
him  out  of  my  head  ;  I  dream  about  him  every  night." 

Richard  and  I  had  one  brief  fortnight  of  uninterrupted 
happiness,  and  were  all  in  all  to  each  other;  but  inasmuch 
as  he  was  to  go  away  directly  on  his  African  journey 
with  Speke  to  the  future  lake  regions  of  Central 
Africa,  we  judged  it  ill  advised  to  announce  the  engage- 
ment to  my  mother,  for  it  would  have  brought  a 
hornets'  nest  about  our  heads,  and  not  furthered  our 
cause  —  and,  besides,  we  were  afraid  of  my  being  sent 
away,  or  of  being  otherwise  watched  and  hindered  from 
our  meeting  ;  so  we  agreed  to  keep  it  a  secret  until  he 
came  back.  The  worst  of  it  all  was,  that  I  was  unable, 
first,  by  reason  of  no  posts  from  a  certain  point,  and, 
secondly,  by  the  certainty  of  having  his  letters  opened 


85 

and  read,  to  receive  many  letters  from  him,  and  those 
only  the  most  cautious  ;  but  I  could  write  to  him  as 
freely  as  possible,  and  send  them  to  the  centres  where 
his  mail-bags  would  be  sent  out  to  him.  All  my 
happiness  therefore  was  buried  deep  in  my  heart,  but 
always  was  chained.  I  felt  as  if  earth  had  passed  and 
heaven  had  begun,  or  as  if  I  had  hitherto  been  some- 
body else,  or  had  lived  in  some  other  world.  But  even 
this  rose  had  its  thorn,  and  that  was  the  knowledge 
that  our  marriage  seemed  very  far  off.  The  idea  of 
waiting  for  willing  parents  and  a  grateful  country 
appeared  so  distant  that  I  should  scarcely  be  worth 
the  having  by  the  time  all  obstacles  were  removed. 
Richard  too  was  exercised  about  how  I  should  be  able 
to  support  his  hard  life,  and  whether  a  woman  could 
really  do  it.  Another  sorrow  was  that  I  had  to  be 
prepared  to  lose  him  at  any  moment,  as  he  might  have 
to  quit  at  a  moment's  notice  on  receiving  certain 
information. 

I  gave  him  Hagar  Burton's  horoscope,  written  in 
Romany — the  horoscope  of  my  future.  One  morning 
(October  3)  I  went  to  meet  him  as  usual,  and  we 
agreed  to  meet  the  following  morning.  He  had 
traced  for  me  a  little  sketch  of  what  he  expected  to 
find  in  the  lake  regions,  and  I  placed  round  his  neck 
a  medal  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  upon  a  steel  chain,  which 
we  Catholics  commonly  call  "  the  miraculous  medal." 
He  promised  me  he  would  wear  it  throughout  his 
journey,  and  show  it  me  on  his  return.  I  had  offered 
it  to  him  on  a  gold  chain,  but  he  said,  "  Take  away 
the  gold  chain  ;  they  will  cut  my  throat  for  it  out  there." 


86       ftbe  TRomance  ot  Isabel  Xa&s  JSurton 


He  showed  me  the  steel  chain  round  his  neck  when  he 
came  back  ;  he  wore  it  all  his  life,  and  it  is  buried  with 
him.  He  also  gave  me  a  little  poem  : 

I  wore  thine  image,  Fame, 
Within  a  heart  well  fit  to  be  thy  shrine  ; 
Others  a  thousand  boons  may  gain  — 
One  wish  was  mine: 

The  hope  to  gain  one  smile, 
To  dwell  one  moment  cradled  on  thy  breast, 
Then  close  my  eyes,  bid  life  farewell, 
And  take  my  rest! 

And  now  I  see  a  glorious  hand 
Beckon  me  out  of  dark  despair, 
Hear  a  glorious  voice  command, 

"Up,  bravely  dare  I 

And  if  to  leave  a  deeper  trace 
On  earth  to  thee  Time,  Fate,  deny, 
Drown  vain  regrets,  and  have  the  grace 
Silent  to  die." 

She  pointed  to  a  grisly  land, 
Where  all  breathes  death  —  earth,  sea,  and  air; 
Her  glorious  accents  sound  once  more, 
"  Go  meet  me  there." 

Mine  ear  will  hear  no  other  sound, 
No  other  thought  my  heart  will  know. 
Is  this  a  sin  ?     "  Oh,  pardon,  Lord  ! 

Thou  mad'st  me  so  !  " 

R.  F.  B. 

The  afternoon  on  which  I  last  met  him  was  the 
afternoon  of  the  same  day.  He  came  to  call  on  my 
mother.  We  only  talked  formally.  I  thought  I  was 
going  to  see  him  on  the  morrow.  It  chanced  that 
we  were  going  to  the  play  that  night.  I  begged  of 


IRfcbarfc  Xoves  flDe  87 

him  to  come,  and  he  said  he  would  if  he  could,  but 
that  if  he  did  not,  I  was  to  know  that  he  had  some 
heavy  business  to  transact.  When  I  had  left  him  in 
the  morning,  I  little  thought  it  was  the  last  kiss,  or  I 
could  never  have  said  good-bye,  and  I  suppose  he  knew 
that  and  wished  to  spare  me  pain.  How  many  little 
things  I  could  have  said  or  done  that  I  did  not  !  We 
met  of  course  before  my  mother  only  as  friends.  He 
appeared  to  me  to  be  agitated,  and  I  could  not  account 
for  his  agitation.  He  stayed  about  an  hour  ;  and  when 
he  left  I  said  purposely,  "  I  hope  we  shall  see  you  on 
your  return  from  Africa,"  and  almost  laughed  outright, 
because  I  thought  we  should  meet  on  the  morrow. 
He  gave  me  a  long,  long  look  at  the  door,  and  I  ran 
out  on  the  balcony  and  kissed  my  hand  to  him,  and 
thus  thoughtlessly  took  my  last  look,  quite  unprepared 
for  what  followed. 

I  went  to  the  theatre  that  evening  quite  happy,  and 
expected  him.  At  10.30  I  thought  I  saw  him  at  the 
other  side  of  the  house  looking  into  our  box.  I  smiled, 
and  made  a  sign  for  him  to  come.  I  then  ceased  to 
see  him  ;  the  minutes  passed,  and  he  did  not  come. 
Something  cold  struck  my  heart ;  I  felt  that  I  should 
not  see  him  again,  and  I  moved  to  the  back  of  the 
box,  and,  unseen,  the  tears  streamed  down  my  face. 
The  old  proverb  kept  haunting  me  like  an  air  one 
cannot  get  out  of  one's  head,  "There's  many  a  true 
word  spoken  in  jest."  The  piece  was  Pizarro,  and 
happily  for  me  Cora  was  bewailing  her  husband's  loss 
on  the  stage,  and  as  I  am  invariably  soft  at  tragedy 
my  distress  caused  no  sensation. 


83        ube  Romance  of  $sabel  2laos  Burton 

I  passed  a  feverish,  restless  night ;  I  could  not  sleep ; 
I  felt  that  I  could  not  wait  till  morning — I  must  see 
him.  At  last  I  dozed  and  started  up,  but  I  touched 
nothing,  yet  dreamt  I  could  feel  his  arms  round  me. 
I  understood  him,  and  he  said,  "  I  am  going  now,  my 
poor  girl.  My  time  is  up,  and  I  have  gone  ;  but  I  will 
come  again — I  shall  be  back  in  less  than  three  years.  I 
am  your  Destiny." 

He  pointed  to  the  clock,  and  it  was  two.  He  held 
up  a  letter,  looked  at  me  long  with  those  gypsy  eyes 
of  his,  put  the  letter  down  on  the  table,  and  said  in  the 
same  way,  "  That  is  for  your  sister — not  for  you."  He 
went  to  the  door,  gave  me  another  of  those  long 
peculiar  looks,  and  I  saw  him  no  more. 

I  sprang  out  of  bed  to  the  door  into  the  passage 
(there  was  nothing),  and  thence  I  went  to  the  room  of 
one  of  my  brothers,  in  whom  I  confided.  I  threw 
myself  on  the  ground  and  cried  my  heart  out.  He  got 
up  and  asked  what  ailed  me,  and  tried  to  soothe  and 
comfort  me.  "  Richard  is  gone  to  Africa,"  I  said, 
"  and  I  shall  not  see  him  for  three  years."  "  Nonsense," 
he  replied  ;  f  *  you  have  only  got  a  nightmare  ;  it  was  that 
lobster  you  had  for  supper ;  you  told  me  he  was  coming 
to-morrow."  "  So  I  did,"  I  sobbed  ;  "  but  I  have  seen 
him  in  a  dream,  and  he  told  me  he  had  gone  ;  and  if 
you  will  wait  till  the  post  comes  in,  you  will  see  that  I 
have  told  you  truly." 

I  sat  all  night  in  my  brother's  armchair,  and  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning  when  the  post  came  in  there  was 
a  letter  for  my  sister  Blanche,  enclosing  one  for  me. 
Richard  had  found  it  too  painful  to  part  from  me,  and 


IRtcbarfc 

thought  we  should  suffer  less  that  way  ;  he  begged  her 
to  break  it  gently  to  me,  and  to  give  me  the  letter,  which 
assured  me  we  should  be  reunited  in  1859,  as  we  were 
on  May  22  that  year.  He  had  received  some  secret 
information,  which  caused  him  to  leave  England  at  once 
and  quietly,  lest  he  should  be  detained  as  witness  at  some 
trial.  He  had  left  his  lodgings  in  London  at  10.30 
the  preceding  evening  (when  I  saw  him  in  the  theatre), 
and  sailed  at  two  o'clock  from  Southampton  (when  I 
saw  him  in  my  room). 

I  believe  there  is  a  strong  sympathy  between  some 
people  (it  was  not  so  well  known  then,  but  it  is  quite 
recognized  now) — so  strong  that,  if  they  concentrate  their 
minds  on  each  other  at  a  particular  moment  and  at  the 
same  time,  and  each  wills  strongly  to  be  together,  the 
will  can  produce  this  effect,  though  we  do  not  yet 
understand  how  or  why.  When  I  could  collect  my 
scattered  senses,  I  sat  down  and  wrote  to  Richard  all 
about  this,  in  the  event  of  my  being  able  to  send  it 
to  him. 

But  to  return.  At  8.30  Blanche  came  into  the  room 
with  the  letter  I  have  mentioned,  to  break  the  sad  news 
to  me.  c<  Good  heavens  !  "  she  said,  "  what  has  happened 
to  you  ?  You  look  dreadful !  "  f '  Richard  is  gone  !  " 
I  gasped  out.  "  How  did  you  know  ? "  she  asked. 
"  Because  I  saw  him  here  in  the  night !  "  "  That  will 
do  you  the  most  good  now,"  she  said.  The  tears 
came  into  her  eyes  as  she  put  a  letter  from  Richard  into 
my  hand,  enclosed  in  one  to  herself,  the  one  I  had  seen 
in  the  night.  The  letter  was  a  great  comfort  to  me, 
and  I  wore  it  round  my  neck  in  a  little  bag.  Curiously 


90        Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  3Burton 

enough  I  had  to  post  my  letter  to  him  to  Trieste — the 
place  where  in  after-life  we  spent  many  years — by  his 
direction.  It  was  the  last  exertion  I  was  capable  of ; 
the  next  few  days  I  spent  in  my  bed. 

My  happiness  had  been  short  and  bright,  and  now 
I  had  to  look  forward  to  three  years  of  my  former 
patient  endurance,  only  with  this  great  change  :  before 
I  was  unloved  and  had  no  hope  ;  now  the  shame  of 
loving  unasked  was  taken  from  me,  and  I  had  the 
happiness  of  being  loved,  and  some  future  to  look 
forward  to.  When  I  got  a  little  better,  I  wrote  the 
following  reflections  to  myself : 

"  A  woman  feels  raised  by  the  Jove  of  a  man  to 
whom  she  has  given  her  whole  heart,  but  not  if  she 
feels  that  she  loves  and  does  not  respect,  or  that  he 
fails  in  some  point,  and  for  such-and-such  reasons  she 
would  not  marry  him.  But  when  she  loves  without 
reserve,  she  holds  her  head  more  proudly,  from  the 
consciousness  of  being  loved  by  him — no  matter  what 
the  circumstances.  So  I  felt  with  Richard,  for  he  is 
above  all  men — so  noble,  so  manly,  with  such  a  perfect 
absence  of  all  meanness  and  hypocrisy.  It  is  true  I 
was  captivated  at  first  sight ;  but  his  immense  talents 
and  adventurous  life  compelled  interest,  and  a  master- 
mind like  his  exercises  influence  over  all  around  it. 
But  I  love  him,  because  I  find  in  him  depth  of  feeling, 
a  generous  heart,  and  because,  though  brave  as  a  lion, 
he  is  yet  a  gentle,  delicate,  sensitive  nature,  and  the 
soul  of  honour.  Also  he  is  calculated  to  appear  as 
something  unique  and  romantic  in  a  woman's  eyes, 
especially  because  he  unites  the  wild,  lawless  creature 


TRicbarfc  Xoves  /IDe  91 

and  the  gentleman.  He  is  the  latter  in  every  sense  of 
the  word,  a  stamp  of  the  man  of  the  world  of  the  best 
sort,  for  he  has  seen  things  without  the  artificial 
atmosphere  of  St.  James's  as  well  as  within  it.  I 
worship  ambition.  Fancy  achieving  a  good  which 
affects  millions,  making  your  name  a  national  name  ! 
It  is  infamous  the  way  half  the  men  in  the  world  live 
and  die,  and  are  never  missed,  and,  like  a  woman,  leave 
nothing  behind  them  but  a  tombstone.  By  ambition 
I  mean  men  who  have  the  will  and  power  to  change 
the  face  of  things.  I  wish  I  were  a  man  :  if  I  were,  I 
would  be  Richard  Burton.  But  as  I  am  a  woman, 
I  would  be  Richard  Burton's  wife.  I  love  him  purely, 
passionately,  and  devotedly  :  there  is  no  void  in  my 
heart  ;  it  is  at  rest  for  ever  with  him.  For  six  years 
this  has  been  part  of  my  nature,  part  of  myself,  the 
basis  of  all  my  actions,  even  part  of  my  religion  ;  my 
whole  soul  is  absorbed  in  it.  I  have  given  my  every 
feeling  to  him,  and  kept  back  nothing  for  myself  or 
the  world  ;  and  I  would  this  moment  sacrifice  and 
leave  all  to  follow  his  fortunes,  were  it  his  wish,  or  for 
his  good.  Whatever  the  world  may  condemn  in  him 
of  lawless  actions  or  strong  opinions,  whatever  he  is  to 
the  world,  he  is  perfect  to  me ;  and  I  would  not  have 
him  otherwise  than  he  is — except  in  spiritual  matters. 
This  last  point  troubles  me.  I  have  been  brought  up 
strictly,  and  have  been  given  clear  ideas  on  all  subjects 
of  religion  and  principle,  and  have  always  tried  to  live 
up  to  them.  When  I  am  in  his  presence,  I  am  not 
myself — he  makes  me  for  the  time  see  things  with  his 
own  eyes,  like  a  fever  or  a  momentary  madness ;  and 


92        Ube  IRomance  ot  Isabel  OLafcy  Burton 

when  I  am  alone  again,  I  recall  my  own  belief  and 
ways  of  thinking,  which  remain  unchanged,  and  am 
frightened  at  my  weak  wavering  and  his  dangerous  but 
irresistible  society.  He  is  gone  ;  but  had  I  the  chance 
now,  I  would  give  years  of  my  life  to  hear  that  dear 
voice  again,  with  all  its  devilry.  I  have  no  right  to 
love  a  man  who  calls  himself  a  complete  materialist, 
who  has  studied  almost,  I  might  say,  beyond  the  depth 
of  knowledge,  who  professes  to  acknowledge  no  God, 
no  law,  human  or  divine.  Yet  I  do  feel  a  close 
suspicion  that  he  has  much  more  feeling  and  belief 
than  he  likes  to  have  the  credit  of." 

After  Richard  was  gone  I  got  a  letter  from  him 
dated  from  Bruges,  October  9,  telling  me  to  write 
to  Trieste,  and  that  he  would  write  from  Trieste  and 
Bombay.  I  sent  three  letters  to  Trieste  and  six  to 
Bombay.  He  asked  me  if  I  was  offended  at  his  abrupt 
departure.  Ah,  no  !  I  take  the  following  from  my 
diary  of  that  time  : 

"  I  have  now  got  into  a  state  of  listening  for  every 
post,  every  knock  making  the  heart  bound,  and  the 
sickening  disappointment  that  ensues  making  it  sink  ; 
but  I  say  to  myself,  '  If  I  am  true,  nothing  can  harm 
me.'  My  delight  is  to  sit  down  and  write  to  him  all 
and  everything,  just  as  it  enters  my  head,  as  I  would  if 
I  were  with  him.  My  letters  are  half  miserable,  half 
jocose,  for  I  do  not  want  to  put  him  out  of  spirits, 
whatever  I  may  be  myself.  I  feel  that  my  letters  are 
a  sort  of  mixture  of  love,  trust,  anger,  faith,  sar- 
casm, tenderness,  bullying,  melancholy,  all  mixed  up. 
.  .  .  He  has  arrived  at  Alexandria.  ...  At  any  rate 


IRicbarfc  Xoves  flDe  93 

my  heart  and  affections  are  my  own  to  give,  I  rob 
no  one,  and  so  I  will  remain.  I  have  a  happy  home, 
family,  society,  all  I  want,  and  I  shall  not  clip  my  wings 
of  liberty  except  for  him,  whatever  my  lot  may  be.  I 
love  and  am  loved,  and  so  strike  a  balance  in  favour  of 
existence.  No  gilded  misery  for  me.  I  was  born  for 
love,  and  require  it  as  air  and  light.  Whatever  harsh- 
ness the  future  may  bring,  he  has  loved  me,  and  my 
future  is  bound  up  in  him  with  all  consequences.  My 
jealous  heart  spurns  all  compromise ;  it  must  have  its 
purpose  or  break.  He  thinks  he  is  sacrificing  me ;  but 
I  want  pain,  privations,  danger  with  him.  I  have  the 
constitution  and  nerves  for  it.  There  are  few  places 
I  could  not  follow  my  husband,  and  be  to  him  com- 
panion, friend,  wife,  and  all.  Where  I  could  not  so 
follow  him,  I  would  not  be  a  clog  to  him,  for  I  am 
tolerably  independent." 

Our  friends  used  sometimes  to  talk  about  Richard  at 
this  time  and  his  expedition.  Whilst  they  discussed 
him  as  a  public  man,  I  was  in  downright  pain  lest  they 
should  say  something  that  I  should  not  like.  Father 
told  them  that  he  was  a  friend  of  ours.  I  then  practised 
discussing  him  with  the  greatest  sang  froid,  and  of 
course  gave  a  vivid  description  of  him,  which  inspired 
great  interest.  His  books,  travels,  and  adventures 
were  talked  of  by  many.  I  told  Richard  in  one  letter 
that  it  was  the  case  of  the  mouse  and  the  lion  ;  but  I 
teased  him  by  saying  that  when  the  mouse  had  nibbled 
a  hole  big  enough  the  lion  forgot  him  because  he  was 
so  small,  and  put  his  big  paw  on  him  and  crushed  him 
altogether.  I  knew  that  his  hobby  was  reputation  ;  he 


94       ttbe  "Romance  ot  -Jsabel  Xafcs  JSurton 


was  great  in  the  literary  world,  men's  society,  clubs, 
and  the  Royal  Geographical  Society.  But  I  wished  him 
also  to  be  great  in  the  world  of  fashion,  where  my 
despised  sex  is  paramount.  I  also  knew  that  if  a  man 
gets  talked  about  in  the  right  kind  of  way  in  handfuls 
of  the  best  society,  here  and  there,  his  fame  quickly 
spreads.  I  had  plenty  of  opportunities  to  help  him  in 
this  way  without  his  knowing  it,  and  great  was  the 
pleasure.  Again  I  fall  back  on  my  journal  : 

"  I  beg  from  God  morning  and  night  that  Richard 
may  return  safe.  Will  the  Almighty  grant  my  prayer  ? 
I  will  not  doubt,  whether  I  hear  from  him  or  not.  I 
believe  that  we  often  meet  in  spirit  and  often  look  at 
the  same  star.  I  have  no  doubt  he  often  thinks  of  me  ; 
and  when  he  returns  and  finds  how  faithful  I  have  been, 
all  will  be  right.  There  is  another  life  if  I  lose  this, 
and  there  is  always  La  Trappe  left  for  the  broken- 
hearted. 

"Christmas  Day,  1856.  —  I  was  delighted  to  hear 
father  and  mother  praising  Richard  to-day  ;  mother 
said  he  was  so  clever  and  agreeable  and  she  liked  him 
so  much,  and  they  both  seemed  so  interested  about  him. 
They  little  knew  how  much  they  gratified  me.  I  was 
reading  a  book  ;  but  when  the  time  came  to  put  it  away, 
I  found  it  had  been  upside-down  all  the  time,  so  I  fancy 
I  was  more  absorbed  in  their  conversation  than  its 
contents.  I  have  been  trying  to  make  out  when  it  is 
midnight  in  Eastern  Africa,  and  when  the  morning  star 
shines  there,  and  I  have  made  out  that  at  10  p.m.  it  ir> 
midnight  there,  and  the  morning  star  shines  on  him 
two  hours  before  it  does  on  me. 


1Ricbart>  Xoves  /IDe  95 

"January  2,  1857. — I  see  by  the  papers  that  Richard 
left  Bombay  for  Zanzibar  with  Lieutenant  Speke  on 
December  2  last.  I  am  struck  by  the  remembrance 
that  it  was  on  that  very  night  that  I  was  so  ill 
and  delirious.  I  dreamt  I  saw  him  sailing  away  and 
he  spoke  to  me,  but  I  thought  my  brain  throbbed  so 
loud  that  I  could  not  hear  him.  I  was  quite  taken  off 
my  guard  to-day  on  hearing  the  news  read  out  from  the 
Times,  so  that  even  my  mother  asked  me  what  was  the 
matter.  I  have  not  had  a  letter;  I  might  get  one  in  a 
fortnight ;  but  I  must  meet  this  uncertainty  with  con- 
fidence, and  not  let  my  love  be  dependent  on  any  action 
of  his,  because  he  is  a  strange  man  and  not  as  other  men. 

^January  18. — Unless  to-morrow's  mail  brings  me 
a  letter,  my  hope  is  gone.  What  is  the  cause  of 
his  silence  I  cannot  imagine.  If  he  had  not  said  he 
would  write,  I  could  understand  it.  But  nothing  shall 
alter  my  course.  It  is  three  months  since  he  left,  and  I 
have  only  had  two  letters  ;  yet  I  feel  confident  that 
Richard  will  be  true,  and  I  will  try  to  deserve  what 
I  desire,  so  that  I  shall  always  have  self-consolation. 
My  only  desire  is  that  he  may  return  safe  to  me  with 
changed  religious  feelings,  and  that  I  may  be  his  wife 
with  my  parents'  consent.  Suspense  is  a  trial  which  I 
must  bear  for  two  years  without  a  murmur.  I  must 
trust  and  pray  to  God  ;  I  must  keep  my  faith  in  Him, 
and  live  a  quiet  life,  employ  myself  only  in  endeavour- 
ing to  make  myself  worthy ;  and  surely  this  conduct 
will  bring  its  reward." 


CHAPTER  VII 

MY  CONTINENTAL   TOUR:    ITALY 
(1857-1858) 

Leave  thy  home  for  abroad  an  wouldst  rise  on  high, 

And  travel  whence  benefits  fivefold  arise — 

The  soothing  of  sorrow  and  winning  of  bread, 

Knowledge,  manners,  and  commerce  with  good  men  and  wise; 

And  they  say  that  in  travel  are  travail  and  care, 

And  disunion  of  friends  and  much  hardship  that  tries. 

ALF  LAYLAH  WA  LAYLAH 

(Burton's  "Arabian  Nights"). 

IN  August,  1857,  nearly  a  year  after  Richard  had 
gone,  my  sister  Blanche  married  Mr.  Smyth 
Pigott,  of  Brockley  Court,  Somerset,  and  after  the 
honeymoon  was  over  they  asked  me  to  travel  abroad 
with  them.  I  was  glad  to  go,  for  it  helped  the 
weary  waiting  for  Richard,  who  was  far  away  in  Central 
Africa. 

On  September  30  we  all  took  a  farewell  dinner 
together,  and  were  very  much  inclined  to  choke  over  it, 
as  we  were  about  to  disperse  for  some  time,  and  poor 
mother  especially  was  upset  at  losing  her  two  girls. 
On  that  occasion  she  indulged  in  a  witticism.  She  told 
me  that  she  had  heard  by  a  little  bird  that  I  was  fond 

96 


Continental  ttour :  Stalg  97 

of  Richard  ;  but  little  thinking  she  was  speaking  any- 
thing in  earnest,  she  said,  "  Well,  if  you  marry  that 
man,  you  will  have  sold  your  birthright  not  for  a  mess 
of  pottage,  but  for  Burton  ale."  I  quickly  answered  her 
back  again,  "  Well,  a  little  bird  told  me  that  you  were 
ordered  an  immense  quantity  of  it  all  the  time  you 
were  in  the  family  way  with  me,  so  that  if  anything 
does  happen  we  shall  call  it  heredity,"  upon  which  we 
both  laughed.  We  all  left  home  at  six  o'clock  for 
London  Bridge  Station  :  we — my  sister,  her  husband, 
and  myself — to  go  on  the  journey,  and  the  rest  of  the 
family  came  with  us  to  see  us  off. 

We  had  a  beautiful  passage  of  six  and  a  half  hours, 
and  slept  in  rugs  on  deck.  There  was  a  splendid  moon 
and  starlight.  About  three  o'clock  in  the  morning 
the  captain  made  friends  with  me,  and  talked  about 
yachting.  He  had  been  nearly  all  over  the  world. 
The  morning  star  was  very  brilliant,  and  I  always 
look  at  it  with  particular  affection  when  I  am  on  board 
ship,  thinking  that  what  I  love  best  lies  under  it.  We 
got  to  the  station  at  Dieppe  at  7.30  a.m.  ;  and  then 
ensued  a  tedious  journey  to  Paris. 

The  next  day  we  drove  about  Paris,  and  then  went 
to  the  Palais  Royal,  Trois  Freres  Provenceaux,  where 
we  dined  in  a  dear  little  place  called  a  cabinet,  very 
like  an  opera-box.  It  was  my  first  experience  of  that 
sort  of  thing.  The  cabinet  overlooked  the  arcade  and 
garden.  We  had  a  most  recherche  little  dinner,  and 
only  one  thing  was  wanting  to  make  it  perfect  enjoy- 
ment to  me.  The  Pigotts  sat  together  on  one  side  of 
the  table,  and  I — alone  on  the  other.  I  put  a  place 

7 


98       TTbc  "Romance  ot  Isabel  Xa&g  JSurton 

for  Richard  by  me.  After  dinner  we  strolled  along 
the  principal  boulevards.  I  can  easily  understand  a 
Parisian  not  liking  to  live  out  of  Paris.  We  saw  it 
to  great  advantage  that  night — a  beautiful  moon  and 
clear,  sharp  air. 

This  day  (October  3)  last  year  how  wretched  and 
truly  miserable  I  was  !  On  the  evening  of  this  day 
Richard  left  !  We  drove  out  and  went  to  the  Pre  de 
Catalan,  where  there  was  music,  dancing,  and  other 
performances.  We  went  to  the  opera  in  the  evening. 
A  petit  souper  afterwards.  This  night  last  year  was  a 
memorable  one.  If  Richard  be  living,  he  will  remember 
me  now ;  it  was  the  night  of  my  parting  with  him  a 
year  ago  when  he  went  to  Africa  for  three  years. 

We  left  Paris  three  days  later  ;  arrived  at  Lyons  7  a.m. 
The  next  morning  breakfasted,  dogs  and  all,  and  were  at 
Marseilles  at  5  p.m.  I  should  have  been  glad  to  stay 
longer  at  Marseilles ;  I  thought  it  the  most  curious 
and  picturesque  place  I  had  ever  seen.  We  arrived  just 
too  late  for  the  diligence.  There  was  no  steamer.  A 
veterino  was  so  slow,  and  we  could  not  remain  till 
Saturday,  so  we  did  not  know  what  to  do.  At  last  we 
discovered  that  a  French  merchant  vessel  was  going  to 
sail  at  8  o'clock  p.m. ;  but  it  was  a  pitch-dark  night,  and 
there  was  a  strong,  hard  wind,  or  mistral,  with  the  sea 
running  very  high.  However,  we  held  a  consultation, 
and  agreed  we  would  do  it  for  economy ;  so  we  got 
our  berths,  and  went  and  dined  at  the  Hotel  des 
Ambassadeurs,  table  d'hote,  where  I  sat  by  a  cousin  of 
Billy  Johnson,  a  traveller  and  linguist.  We  frater- 
nized, and  he  made  himself  as  agreeable  as  only  such 


Continental  Hour :  3tal£  99 

men  can.  After  dinner  we  went  on  board,  and  all  the 
passengers  went  down  to  their  berths.  I  dressed  myself 
in  nautical  rig,  and  went  on  deck  to  see  all  that  I  could. 
We  passed  the  Isle  d'Hyeres  and  the  Chateau  d'lf  of 
Monte  Christo.  We  could  not  go  between  the  rocks, 
owing  to  the  mistral.  The  moon  arose,  it  blew  hard, 
and  we  shipped  heavy  seas.  The  old  tub  creaked  and 
groaned  and  lurched,  and  every  now  and  then  bid  fair 
to  stand  on  beam-ends.  Being  afraid  of  going  to  sleep, 
I  lashed  myself  to  a  bench  ;  two  Frenchmen  joined  me, 
one  a  professor  of  music,  the  other  rather  a  rough 
diamond,  who  could  speak  a  mouthful  of  several 
languages,  had  travelled  a  little,  and  he  treated  me  to  a 
description  of  India,  and  told  me  all  the  old  stories 
English  girls  hear  from  their  military  brothers  and 
cousins  from  the  cradle.  Every  time  we  shipped  a  sea 
all  the  French,  Italian,  and  Spanish  passengers  gave 
prolonged  howls  and  clung  to  each  other  ;  it  might 
have  been  an  Irish  wake.  They  were  so  frightfully  sick, 
poor  things !  It  hurt  my  inside  to  hear  them,  and  it 
was  worse  to  see  them.  Meanwhile  my  two  companions 
and  I  had  pleasant  conversation,  not  only  on  India, 
but  music  and  Paris.  By-and-by  they  too  gradually 
dropped  off;  so  I  went  down  and  tumbled  into  my 
berth,  and  slept  soundly  through  the  night. 

I  was  aroused  next  morning  by  a  steward  redolent  of 
garlic.  Our  maid  shared  the  cabin  with  me,  and  treated 
me  to  a  scene  like  the  deck  of  the  preceding  evening. 
Why  are  maids  always  sick  at  sea,  and  have  to  be  waited 
on,  poor  things,  by  their  mistresses  who  are  not  ?  There 
was  such  a  noise,  such  heat  and  smells.  I  slept  till  we 


ioo      ftbe  TComance  ot  Isabel  Xat>£  JSurton 

were  in  Nice  Harbour.  My  sister  and  her  husband 
went  off  to  find  a  house  ;  I  cleared  the  baggage  and 
drove  to  the  Hotel  Victoria,  where  we  dined,  and  then 
went  to  our  new  lodging. 

I  was  not  sorry  to  be  housed,  after  being  out  two 
days  and  two  nights.  I  got  up  next  morning  at  6  a.m. ; 
there  was  a  bright,  beautiful  sky,  a  dark  blue  sea,  and 
such  a  lightness  in  the  air.  I  went  out  to  look  about 
me.  Nice  is  a  very  pretty  town,  tolerably  clean,  with 
very  high  houses,  beautiful  mountains,  and  a  perfect 
sea,  and  balminess  in  the  air.  There  is  something 
Moorish-looking  about  the  people  and  place.  I  am 
told  there  is  no  land  between  us  and  Tunis — three 
hundred  miles  ! — and  that  when  the  sirocco  comes  the 
sand  from  the  great  desert  blows  across  the  sea  on  to 
our  windows.  We  have  an  African  tree  in  our  garden. 
And  Richard  is  over  there  in  Africa. 

My  favourite  occupation  while  at  Nice  was  sitting 
on  the  shingle  with  my  face  to  the  sea  and  towards 
Africa.  I  hate  myself  because  I  cannot  sketch.  If 
I  could  only  exchange  my  musical  talent  for  that, 
I  should  be  very  happy.  There  is  such  a  beautiful 
variety  in  the  Mediterranean  :  one  day  it  looks  like 
undulating  blue  glass  ;  at  others  it  is  dark  blue,  rough, 
and  dashing,  with  white  breakers  on  it  ;  but  hardly 
ever  that  dull  yellowish  green  as  in  our  Channel,  which 
makes  one  bilious  to  look  at  it.  The  sky  is  glorious, 
so  high  and  bright,  so  soft  and  clear,  and  the  only 
clouds  you  ever  see  are  like  little  tufts  of  rose-coloured 
wool.  The  best  time  to  sit  here  is  sunset.  One  does 
not  see  the  rays  sc  distinctly  in  Fngland  ;  and  when  the 


Continental  TTour :  -Kalg  101 

sun  sinks  behind  the  hills  of  the  frontier,  there  is  such 
a  purple,  red,  and  gold  tint  on  the  sea  and  sky  that  many 
would  pronounce  it  overdone  or  unnatural  in  a  painting. 
A  most  exquisite  pink  shade  is  cast  over  the  hills  and 
town.  There  is  one  nice  opera-house  at  Nice,  one 
pretty  church,  a  corso  and  terrace,  where  you  go  to 
hear  the  band  and  eat  ices  in  the  evening ;  there 
is  the  reading  club  at  Visconti's  for  ladies  as  well  as 
men,  where  you  can  read  and  write  and  meet  others 
and  enjoy  yourself.  (I  am  talking  of  1857.)  Our 
apartments  suit  us  very  well.  My  portion  consists  of 
a  nice  lofty  bedroom,  a  painted  ceiling,  furnished  in 
English  style,  a  little  bathroom  paved  with  red  china, 
and  a  little  sort  of  ante-drawing-room.  My  windows 
look  over  a  little  garden,  where  the  African  tree  is, 
and  the  sea  beyond,  and  beyond  that  again  Africa  and 
Richard. 

We  left  Nice  for  Genoa  at  5.30  on  November  14, 
my  sister,  her  husband,  and  self,  in  the  coupe,  which 
was  very  much  like  being  packed  as  sardines — no 
room  for  legs.  However,  we  were  very  jolly,  only 
we  got  rather  stiff  during  the  twenty-four  hours' 
journey  ;  for  we  only  stopped  twice — once  for  ten 
minutes  at  Oniglia  at  4  a.m.  for  a  cup  of  coffee,  and 
once  at  noon  next  day  for  half  an  hour  at  another  place 
to  dine.  However,  I  was  too  happy  to  grumble,  having 
just  received  a  letter  saying  that  Richard  would  be 
home  in  next  June,  1858  (he  was  not  home  for  a  year 
later)  ;  we  smoked  and  chatted  and  slept  alternately. 
The  Cornice  road  is  beautiful — a  wild,  lonely  road  in 
the  mountains,  with  precipices,  ravines,  torrents,  and 


"Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

passes  of  all  descriptions  :  the  sea  beneath  us  on  one  side, 
and  mountains  covered  with  snow  on  the  other.  You 
seem  to  pass  into  all  sorts  of  climates  very  speedily.  On 
the  land  to  our  left  was  a  fine  starlight  sky  and  clear, 
sharp  air,  and  on  the  sea  thunder  and  lightning  and 
a  white  squall.  There  was  always  the  excitement  of 
imagining  that  a  brigand  might  come  or  a  torrent  be 
impassable ;  but  alas !  not  a  ghost  of  an  adventure, 
except  once  catching  a  milestone.  I  think  the  Whip 
Club  would  be  puzzled  at  the  driving  :  sometimes  we 
have  eleven  horses,  each  with  a  different  rein ;  to  some 
the  drivers  whistle,  to  others  they  talk.  It  is  tiresome 
work  crawling  up  and  down  the  mountains ;  but  when 
they  do  get  a  bit  of  plain  ground,  they  seem  to  go  ten 
miles  an  hour,  tearing  through  narrow  streets  where 
there  seems  scarcely  room  for  a  sheet  of  paper  between 
the  diligence  and  the  wall,  whirling  round  sharp  zigzag 
corners  with  not  the  width  of  a  book  between  the  wheel 
and  the  precipice,  and  that  at  full  gallop.  We  created 
a  great  sensation  at  one  of  our  halting-places,  and 
indeed  everywhere,  for  we  were  in  our  nautical  rig; 
and  what  amused  the  natives  immensely  was  that  one 
of  our  terriers  was  a  very  long  dog  with  short  legs, 
and  they  talked  of  the  yards  of  dog  we  had  with  us. 
We  at  last  arrived  at  Genoa. 

I  liked  Genoa  far  better  than  Nice :  the  sky  is 
more  Italian  ;  the  sea  looks  as  if  it  washed  the 
town,  or  as  if  the  town  sprang  out  of  it ;  it  is  all 
so  hilly.  The  town  with  its  domes  looks  like  white 
marble.  The  lower  range  of  mountains  is  covered 
with  monasteries,  forts,  pretty  villas,  and  gardens  ;  the 


Continental  tTour :  3tal£  103 

other  ranges  are  covered  with  snow.  There  are  six 
or  seven  fine  streets,  connected  by  a  network  of  very 
narrow,  oddly  paved  side-streets,  whose  tall  houses 
nearly  meet  at  the  top  ;  they  are  picturesque,  and  look 
like  the  pictures  of  the  Turkish  bazaar.  Mazzini  is 
here,  and  the  Government  hourly  expect  an  outbreak  of 
the  Republican  party.  The  troops  are  under  arms,  and 
a  transport  with  twelve  hundred  men  from  Turin  and 
troops  from  Sardinia  have  arrived.  The  offer  to  the 
Neapolitan  Government  to  expel  the  exiles  is  the  cause. 
The  police  are  hunting  up  Mazzini  ;  Garibaldi  is  here  ; 
Lord  Lyons'  squadron  is  hourly  expected. 

I  have  been  abroad  now  two  months.  I  have  had 
one  unsatisfactory  note  from  Richard  ;  he  is  coming 
back  in  June  or  July.  Oh  what  a  happiness  and 
what  anxiety  !  In  a  few  short  months,  please  God, 
this  dreadful  separation  will  be  over.  Pray !  Pray  !  ! 
Pray  !  ! ! 

Monsieur  Pernay  spent  an  evening  with  me  ;  and 
seeing  the  picture  on  the  wall  of  Richard  in  Meccan 
costume,  he  asked  me  what  it  was  ;  and  on  my  telling 
him,  he  composed  a  valse  on  the  spot,  and  called  it 
"  Richard  in  the  Desert,"  and  said  he  should  compose  a 
libretto  on  it.  How  I  wish  Richard  were  here  !  It 
makes  me  quite  envious  when  I  see  my  sister  and  her 
husband.  I  am  all  alone,  and  Richard's  place  is  vacant 
in  the  opera-box,  in  the  carriage,  and  everywhere. 
Sometimes  I  dream  he  came  back  and  would  not  speak 
to  me,  and  I  wake  up  with  my  pillow  wet  with  tears. 

My  first  exclamation  as  the  clock  struck  twelve  on 
St.  Sylvester's  night,  1857,  as  we  all  shook  hands  and 


104      Ube  Romance  of  Isabel  SLaog  Burton 

drank  each  other's  health  in  a  glass  of  punch  at  the 
Cafe  de  la  Concorde,  was,  "  This  year  I  shall  see 
Richard !  " 

On  the  first  Sunday  of  the  year  I  went  to  hear  Mass 
at  Saint  Philip  Neri,  and  then  went  to  the  post-office, 
where  a  small  boy  pushed  up  against  me  and  stole  my 
beloved  picture  of  Richard  out  of  my  pocket.  I  did 
not  feel  him  do  it,  but  a  horrible  idea  of  having  lost 
the  picture  came  over  me.  I  felt  for  it,  and  it  was 
gone  !  I  had  a  beautiful  gold  chain  in  my  pocket,  and 
a  purse  with  £25  ;  yet  the  young  rascal  never  touched 
them,  but  seemed  to  know  that  I  should  care  only  for 
the  portrait.  I  instantly  rushed  off  to  every  crier  in 
the  town  ;  had  two  hundred  affiches  printed  and  stuck 
up  in  every  corner  ;  I  put  a  paragraph  in  the  papers ;  I 
asked  every  priest  to  give  it  out  in  the  pulpit  ;  the 
police,  the  post-office,  every  corner  of  the  town  was 
warned.  Of  course  I  pretended  it  was  a  picture 
of  my  brother.  After  three  agonizing  days  and  nights 
an  old  woman  brought  it  back,  the  frame  gone,  the 
picture  torn,  rubbed,  and  smeared,  which  partly 
effaced  the  expression  of  the  face  and  made  it  look  as 
if  it  knew  where  it  had  been  and  how  it  had  been 
defiled.  The  story  was  that  her  little  boy  had  found  it 
in  that  state  in  a  dirty  alley  ;  and  thinking  it  was  a 
picture  of  Jesus  Christ  or  a  saint,  took  it  home  to  his 
little  brother  to  keep  him  good  when  he  was  naughty, 
and  threw  it  in  their  toy  cupboard.  A  poor  priest 
happened  to  dine  with  this  poor  family,  and  mentioned 
the  affiche,  in  which  the  words  ufficiale  Inglese  as  large 
as  my  head  appeared.  The  boys  then  produced  the 


Continental  Uour :  3tals  105 

wreck  of  the  portrait,  and  asked  if  that  could  possibly 
be  the  article,  and  if  it  was  really  true  that  the  Signorina 
was  willing  to  give  so  much  for  it  ;  and  the  priest 
said  "  Yes,"  for  the  Signorina  had  wept  much  for  the 
portrait  of  her  favourite  brother  who  was  killed  in  the 
Crimea.  So  it  was  brought,  and  the  simple  Signorina 
gladly  gave  three  napoleons  to  the  old  woman  to  know 
that  she  possessed  all  that  remained  of  that  much-loved 
face.  But  that  boy — oh  that  boy  ! — got  off  scot-free, 
and  the  Signorina's  reward  did  not  induce  any  one  to 
bring  him  to  her.  Doubtless,  finding  the  stolen  picture 
of  no  value  to  him,  he  had  maltreated  it  and  cast  it  in 
the  gutter.  How  I  could  spank  him  ! 

We  left  Genoa  at  9  a.m.  on  January  15.  We  wished 
good-bye  to  a  crowd  of  friends  inside  and  outside  the 
hotel.  We  had  a  clean,  roomy  veterino  with  four  capital 
little  horses  at  the  door  charged  with  our  luggage,  a 
capital  vetturino  (coachman),  and  room  for  four  inside 
and  four  out.  A  jolly  party  to  fill  it.  It  was  agreed 
we  should  divide  the  expenses,  take  turns  for  the 
outside  places,  and  be  as  good-humoured  as  possible. 
Luckily  for  me  nobody  cared  for  the  box-seat,  so  I 
always  got  it.  The  first  day  we  did  thirty  miles. 
Our  halting-place  for  the  day  was  Ruta,  where  some- 
thing befell  me.  I  lost  my  passport  at  Nervi,  several 
miles  back  ;  a  village  idiot  to  whom  I  gave  a  penny 
picked  it  up  and  sold  it  to  a  peasant  woman  for  twelve 
sous,  who  happened  to  be  riding  on  a  mule  into  Ruta, 
and  halted  where  we  were  feeding.  Our  vetturino 
(Emanuele)  happened  to  see  it  and  recognized  it  in 
her  hand,  bought  it  back  again  for  twelve  sous,  and 


106      Tibe  TRomance  ot  Isabel  %at>2  Burton 

gave  it  to  me.  It  would  have  been  a  fatal  loss  to 
me.  Soon  after  sunset  we  halted  for  the  night  at 
Sestri ;  the  horses  had  done  enough  for  the  day.  Four 
or  five  carriages  had  been  attacked  this  winter,  and 
there  was  a  report  of  a  large  number  of  murders  near 
Ancona,  and  there  was  no  other  sleeping-place  to  be 
reached  that  night.  We  soon  had  a  capital  fire,  supper, 
and  beds. 

On  this  journey  we  planned  out  our  day  much 
as  follows :  We  rose  at  daybreak  and  started ;  we 
had  breakfast  in  the  carriage  after  three  hours'  drive. 
We  passed  our  day  in  eating  and  drinking,  laughing  and 
talking,  smoking  and  sleeping,  and  some  mooning  and 
sentimentalizing  over  the  scenery  :  I  the  latter  sort, 
and  improving  my  Italian  on  the  vetturino.  We  used 
to  halt  half-way  two  hours  for  the  horses  to  rest 
and  dinner,  and  then  drive  till  dark  where  we  halted 
for  the  night,  ordered  fire,  supper,  and  beds,  wrote 
out  our  journals,  made  our  respective  accounts,  and 
smoked  our  cigarettes.  The  scenery  and  weather  varied 
every  day. 

We  slept  a  night  at  Sestri,  and  went  on  at  daybreak. 
This  day  I  had  a  terrible  heartache  ;  to  my  horror 
we  had  a  leader,  the  ghost  of  a  white  horse  covered 
with  sores,  ridden  by  a  fine,  strapping  wag  of  a  youth, 
who  told  me  his  master  was  rich  and  stingy,  and  did 
not  feed  him,  Jet  alone  the  horse,  which  only  had 
a  mouthful  when  employed.  I  told  him  his  master 
would  go  to  hell,  and  he  assured  me  smilingly  that 
he  was  sure  his  soul  was  already  there,  and  that  it 
was  only  his  body  that  was  walking  about.  I  asked 


Continental  ftour :  3tal£  xoy 

him  to  sell  the  horse  to  me,  and  let  me  shoot  him  ; 
but  he  shook  his  head  and  laughed.  "You  English 
treat  your  horses  better  than  masters  treat  their  servants 
in  Italy,"  said  he,  as  we  topped  the  mountain.  At  my 
request  Emanuele  gave  the  poor  beast  a  feed  and  sent 
him  back,  poor  mass  of  skin  and  bones  that  it  was. 
It  was  not  fit  to  carry  a  fly,  and  I  am  told  it  was  the 
best  horse  he  had.  That  day  our  journey  was  a  forty 
weary  miles  of  black,  barren  ascent  and  descent, 
amongst  snowy  mountains,  which  looked  as  if  man 
or  beast  had  never  trod  there.  Our  halt  was  at 
Borghetto  in  the  middle  of  the  day.  At  the  end  of 
the  forty  miles  came  a  delightful  surprise.  We  were 
on  a  magnificent  ridge  of  Maritime  Alps  covered  with 
snow  ;  a  serpentine  road  led  us  down  into  a  beautiful 
valley  and  Spezzia  on  the  sea,  the  beautiful  Gulf. 
The  Croce  di  Malta  was  a  comfortable  little  hotel. 
In  half  an  hour  we  were  round  a  roaring  fire  with  a 
good  supper. 

Next  morning  we  took  a  boat  and  explored  the 
Gulf,  the  Source  d'Eau,  Lerici,  where  Byron  and  Shelley 
lived.  That  day  was  the  Feast  of  Saint  Anthony  ; 
the  horses  were  blessed,  which  is  a  very  amusing 
sight,  It  was  the  first  night  of  the  Carnival,  and  the 
Postilions'  Ball,  to  which  we  were  invited  and  went. 
It  was  full  of  peasant-girls  and  masqueraders ;  it  was 
capital  fun,  and  we  danced  all  night.  The  costumes 
here  are  very  pretty  ;  they  and  the  pronunciation  change 
about  every  forty  miles. 

The  day  we  went  away  we  had  great  fun.  The 
Magra  had  to  be  passed  two  hours  from  Spezzia  ; 


io8      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

it  is  a  river  with  a  bridge  broken  down.  The  peasants 
working,  look  for  all  the  world  like  diggers  at  the. 
diggings ;  they  are  lawless  enough  to  do  anything. 
You  get  out  and  walk  a  mile  amongst  them  ;  your 
carriage  is  embarked  in  a  barge  ;  it  wades  through  and 
gets  filled  with  water  ;  the  men  at  their  pleasure  upset 
it,  or  demand  eighty  francs  or  so.  However,  we  were 
all  game  for  anything  that  might  occur,  knowing  how 
they  treated  others.  Our  vetturino  was  a  regular 
brick — waded  through  with  it  without  an  accident ;  we 
walked  through  with  all  our  money  about  us,  dressing- 
cases  in  hand,  our  jackets  with  belts  and  daggers  in 
them.  One  man  became  rather  abusive ;  but  we 
laughed  at  him,  and  gave  him  a  universal  chaffing. 
They  followed  us,  and  were  annoying  ;  but  we  swaggered 
along,  and  looked  like  people  troubled  with  mosquitoes 
instead  of  ruffians,  and  not  given  to  fainting  and 
hysterics.  So  at  last  they  were  rather  inclined  to 
fraternize  with  us  than  otherwise.  I  suspect  that  they 
were  accustomed  to  timid  travellers.  After  this  we 
passed  Sarzana,  a  town  of  some  consequence  in  these 
parts,  with  a  castle  and  fortress.  The  weather  this 
day  was  cold  and  biting,  especially  on  the  box-seat, 
and  the  scenery,  except  at  Carrara,  no  great  shakes.  We 
found  Carrara  in  a  state  of  siege,  and  the  troops  occupied 
the  hotel.  Emanuele  found  a  sort  of  stable,  but  we 
could  get  no  food. 

After  this  we  proceeded  by  stages,  and  stopped  some 
days  at  several  places,  and  made  Jong  interior  excursions, 
which  I  was  often  too  tired  to  note.  At  last  we  arrived 
at  Pisa.  We  had  no  trouble  with  the  douanier. 


Continental  ZTour:  3tal£  109 

When  I  entered  the  Tuscan  frontier,  I  declared  I  would 
never  say  another  word  of  French  ;  ard  Emanuele,  who 
was  a  wag,  sent  all  the  douanlers  to  me  ;  but  a  franc,  a 
smile,  an  assurance  that  we  had  nothing  contraband, 
and  the  word  was  given  to  pass.  We  scarcely  ever  had 
our  baggage  touched  ;  but  that  was  in  1858. 

In  Pisa  we  saw  many  things,  including  the  Baptisteria> 
the  Campanile  or  leaning  tower,  the  Duomo,  and  the 
Sapienza,  an  object  of  interest  to  me,  as  Richard  passed 
30  much  of  his  boyhood  here,  and  that  was  his  school. 
I  regret  to  say  the  most  debauched  and  ungentlemanly 
part  of  the  population  issued  from  this  place,  which 
distressed  me,  who  held  it  sacred  because  of  him.  The 
Granda  Bretagna  was  a  very  nice  hotel,  with  a  good 
table  d'hote,  and  all  English.  It  had  every  comfort  ;  only, 
being  full,  we  could  only  get  small,  dark  rooms  at  the 
back,  which  was  dull,  and  with  nothing  but  stoves  ;  and 
the  weather  being  bitter,  we  were  petrified.  We  went 
a  great  deal  to  the  Duomo  and  the  Campo  Santo,  where 
the  figures  rather  made  us  laugh,  though  I  felt  senti- 
mental enough  about  other  things.  At  the  top  of  the 
Campanile  or  leaning  tower,  or  belfry,  I  found  that 
Richard  had  chiselled  his  name,  so  I  did  the  same. 
How  curious  it  would  have  been  if  while  he  was  doing 
it  he  could  have  said,  "  My  future  wife  will  also  come 
and  chisel  hers,  so  many  years  later,  in  remembrance 
of  me." 

The  man  who  shows  the  Campanile  remembered 
Richard,  and  it  was  he  who  told  me  where  he  cut 
his  name  at  the  top  of  the  tower. 

The   last  day  I  was   in   Pisa    (January  25)  it  was 


no      ftbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xabp  JBurton 

our  Princess  Royal's  wedding  day.  We  had  a  grand 
dinner,  champagne,  toasts,  and  cheering.  The  table 
d'hote  was  decorated  with  our  yacht  flags.  One  of 
the  English  ladies  invited  us  to  her  rooms,  where  we 
had  music  and  dancing,  and  I  talked  to  one  girl  of 
seventeen,  who  proved  to  be  an  original  after  my  own 
heart.  After  the  soiree,  we  smoked  a  cigarette  and 
discussed  our  plans.  The  next  morning  we  had  to 
leave  Pisa.  We  were  all  sorry  to  part. 

Half  an  hour's  train  brought  us  to  Leghorn,  where 
we  got  pretty  rooms  at  the  Victoria  and  Washington. 
It  is  quite  spring  weather,  beautiful  sky  and  sea  ;  again 
flat,  ugly  country,  but  the  range  of  mountains  shows  to 
advantage  ;  the  air  is  delicious,  and  we  are  all  well  and  in 
spirits.  The  town  is  very  fine,  the  people  tant-soit-peu- 
Portsmouth-like.  There  is  nothing  to  see  at  Leghorn. 
Faute  de  mieux  we  went  to  see  an  ugly  duomo,  which, 
however,  contained  Canova's  Tempo,  the  one  statue 
of  which  you  hear  from  morning  till  night.  We  also 
visited  the  English  Cemetery,  which  contained  Smollett's 
tomb.  There  are  the  docks  to  see,  and  Habib's  bazaar, 
a  rogue,  and  not  too  civil,  but  he  has  beautiful  Eastern 
things.  The  town  is  in  a  state  of  siege,  and  no  Carnival 
is  allowed. 

We  left  Leghorn  on  February  I  for  Florence,  and 
visited  successively  many  queer,  little,  out-of-the-way 
towns  en  route. 

The  first  day  at  Florence  we  drove  about  to  have 
a  general  view  of  the  city,  and  after  that  we  visited  the 
principal  palazzos,  churches,  and  theatres — all  of  which 
have  often  been  described  before.  We  were  at  Florence 


Continental  Uour:  3talg  m 

nearly  a  month.  We  saw  one  Sunday's  Carnival,  one 
opera,  one  masked  ball.  We  had  several  friends,  who 
were  anxious  for  us  to  stay,  and  go  into  society  ;  but 
time  pressed,  and  we  had  to  decline.  Every  evening 
we  used  to  go  to  the  theatre,  and  some  of  our  friends 
would  invite  us  to  pefits  soupers.  At  Florence  all 
Richard's  friends,  finding  I  knew  his  sister  in  England, 
were  kind  to  us  ;  and  we  were  very  sorry  to  start  at 
3  a.m.  on  February  1 1  en  route  for  Venice. 

We  were  five  individuals,  with  our  baggage  on 
our  backs,  turned  into  a  rainy  street,  cutting  a  sorry 
figure  and  laughing  at  ourselves.  The  diligence  started 
at  once.  We  had  twenty-one  hours  to  Bologna,  drawn 
by  oxen  at  a  foot's  pace  through  the  snow,  which  the 
cantonniers  had  cleared  partially  away,  but  which  often 
lay  in  heaps  of  twelve  or  twenty  feet  untouched.  I  never 
saw  such  magnificent  snow  scenes  as  when  crossing 
the  Apennines.  We  slept  at  Bologna,  saw  it,  and  took 
a  vetturino  next  day.  The  drive  was  a  dreary,  flat  snow 
piece  of  forty  miles  in  length.  Malebergo  was  the 
only  town.  We  here  came  across  a  horrid  thing.  Two 
men  had  fallen  asleep  in  a  hay-cart  smoking ;  it  caught 
fire,  burnt  the  men,  cart,  hay,  and  all.  The  horse  ran 
away,  had  its  hind-quarters  burnt  out,  and  they  were 
all  three  dead,  men  and  horse.  It  gave  us  a  terrible 
turn,  but  we  could  do  nothing.  Next  morning  we 
were  up  at  four  o'clock.  We  crossed  the  river  Po  at 
seven  o'clock  ;  it  was  bitter  cold.  We  drove  fifty  miles 
that  day  ;  the  last  twelve  were  very  pretty.  At  length 
we  reached  Padua.  The  ground  was  like  ice  ;  our  off 
leader  fell,  and  was  dragged  some  little  distance.  (How 


TComance  of  Isabel  Xaog  HBurton 

little  I  thought  then  that  I  should  be  a  near  neighbour 
and  frequent  visitor  of  all  these  places  during  the 
eighteen  last  years  of  my  married  life  !)  When  we  left 
Padua,  we  had  twenty-seven  miles  more  to  go,  where 
we  exchanged  for  the  (to  us  girls)  new  wonder  of  a 
gondola,  which  took  us  to  the  Hotel  Europa  in  Venice. 
We  were  not  sorry  to  have  got  through  our  journey, 
and  a  blazing  fire  and  a  good  supper  and  cigarette 
soon  effaced  the  memory  of  the  cold,  starvation,  and 
weariness  we  had  gone  through  for  so  long.  We 
wanted  no  rocking  that  night. 

It  is  all  very  well  writing  ;  but  nothing  I  could 
ever  say  would  half  express  my  enthusiasm  for  Venice. 
It  fulfils  all  the  exigencies  of  romance;  it  is  the 
only  thing  that  has  never  disappointed  me.  I  am  so 
happy  at  Venice.  Except  for  Richard's  absence,  I  have 
not  another  wish  ungratified  ;  and  I  also  like  it  because 
this  and  Trieste  were  the  last  places  he  was  in  near 
home  when  he  started  for  Africa. 

Not  a  night  passes  here  that  I  do  not  dream  that 
Richard  has  come  home  and  will  not  speak  to  me  ;  not 
a  day  that  I  do  not  kneel  down  twice,  praying  that 
God  may  send  him  a  ray  of  divine  grace,  and  bring 
him  to  religion,  and  also,  though  I  feel  quite  unworthy 
of  so  high  a  mission,  that  I  may  be  his  wife,  for  I 
so  love  and  care  for  him  that  I  should  never  have 
courage  to  take  upon  myself  the  duties  of  married  life 
with  any  other  man.  I  have  seen  so  much  of  married 
life;  have  seen  men  so  unjust,  selfish,  and  provoking; 
and  have  always  felt  I  never  could  receive  an  injury 
from  any  man  but  him  without  everlasting  resentment. 


Continental  Uour : 

Oh,  if  he  should  come  home  and  have  changed,  it 
would  break  my  heart !  I  would  rather  die  than  see 
that  day ! 

We  plan  out  our  days  here,  rising  at  eight,  breakfast 
nine,  Mass,  spending  the  morning  with  friends,  music, 
reading,  working,  writing,  reading  French  and  Italian, 
and  some  sketching.  At  one  o'clock  we  start  to  ex- 
plore all  the  beautiful  things  to  be  seen  here,  then  we 
go  to  a  very  cheerful  table  d'hote^  and  afterwards  spend 
a  most  agreeable  evening  in  each  other's  apartments,  or 
we  gondola  about  to  listen  to  the  serenades  by  moon- 
light. I  think,  we  have  walked  and  gondolaed  the 
place  all  through  by  day  and  moon.  How  heavenly 
Venice  would  have  been  with  Richard,  we  two  floating 
about  in  these  gondolas  !  Our  friends  are  a  charming 
Belgian  couple  named  Hagemans,  two  little  children, 
and  a  nice  sister,  and  last,  though  not  least,  the 
Chevalier  de  St.  Cheron.  The  Chevalier  is  a  perfect 
French  gentleman  of  noble  family,  good-looking,  fasci- 
nating, brilliant  in  conversation  ;  has  much  heart,  esprit, 
and  delicatesse  ;  he  is  more  solid  than  most  Frenchmen, 
and  better  informed,  and  has  noble  sentiments,  head  and 
heart ;  and  yet,  were  he  an  Englishman,  I  should  think 
him  vain  and  ignorant.  He  has  a  few  small  prejudices 
and  French  tricks,  wfrch  are,  however,  little  faults  of 
nationality,  education,  and  circumstance,  but  not  of 
nature.  Henri  V.,  the  Bourbon  King,  called  the 
Comte  de  Chambord,  lives  at  the  Palazzo  Cavalli,  and 
holds  a  small  court,  kept  up  in  a  little  state  by  devoted 
partisans,  who  are  under  the  surveillance  of  the  police, 
and  have  three  or  four  different  lodgings  everywhere. 


H4      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

St.  Cheron  is  his  right-hand  man  and  devoted  to  him, 
and  will  be  in  the  highest  office  when  he  comes  to 
the  throne.  As  we  are  devoted  to  the  Bourbons  he 
introduced  us  there,  and  the  King  helped  to  make  our 
stay  happy  to  us. 

We  arrived  in  Venice  for  the  end  of  the  Carnival. 
The  last  night  of  it  we  went  to  the  masked  ball  at 
the  Finice ;  it  was  the  most  brilliant  sight  I  ever  saw. 
We  masked  and  dominoed,  and  it  was  there  that  the 
Chevalier  and  I  first  came  in  contact  and  spoke  ;  he 
had  been  watching  for  an  opportunity.  The  evening 
after  the  ball  he  came  to  table  d'hote  and  spoke  to  us, 
and  asked  leave  to  pay  us  an  evening  visit,  which  he 
did  (the  Hagemans  were  there  too)  ;  and  from  that 
we  spent  all  our  evenings  and  days  together. 

One  night  we  rowed  in  gondolas  by  moonlight  to 
the  Lido  ;  we  took  the  guitar.  I  never  saw  Venice 
look  so  beautiful.  The  water  was  like  glass,  and  there 
was  not  a  sound  but  the  oars'  splashing.  We  sang 
glees.  Arrived  at  the  Lido,  we  had  tea  and  walked 
the  whole  length  of  the  sands.  That  night  was  one  of 
many  such  evenings  in  queenly  Venice.  I  shall  often 
remember  the  gondolier's  serenades,  the  beautiful  moon 
and  starlight,  the  gliding  about  in  the  gondola  in  all  the 
romantic  parts  of  Venice,  the  soft  air,  the  stillness  of 
the  night,  hearing  only  the  splash  of  oars,  and  nothing 
stirring  except  perhaps  some  dark  and  picturesque 
figure  crossing  the  bridge,  the  little  Madonna  chapel 
on  the  banks  of  the  Lido  edging  the  Adriatic,  the 
Piazza  of  San  Marco  with  the  band,  and  ices  out- 
side Florian's,  the  picturesque  Armenians,  Greeks,  and 


Continental  Uour  :  3tals  115 


Moors,  and  the  lovely  water-girls  with  their  bigolo, 
every  language  sounding  in  one's  ears.  I  remember  too 
all  my  favourite  localities,  too  numerous  to  set  down, 
but  known  doubtless  to  every  lover  of  Venice. 

On  the  days  that  were  too  bad  for  sight-seeing  we 
and  our  friends  read  Byron,  talked  French,  and  sketched  ; 
on  indifferent  days  we  lionized  ;  and  on  beautiful  days 
we  floated  about  round  the  islands.  I  had  two  particu- 
larly happy  days  ;  they  were  the  summer  mornings 
when  the  sun  shone  and  the  birds  sang  ;  and  we  were 
all  so  gay  we  sang  too,  and  the  Adriatic  was  so  blue. 
There  were  two  or  three  beautiful  brigs  sometimes 
sailing  for  Trieste. 

One  day  Henri  V.  desired  the  Chevalier  to  bring  us 
to  a  private  audience.  Blanche  wore  her  wedding-dress 
with  pearls  and  a  slight  veil  ;  my  brother-in-law  was  in 
his  best  R.Y.S.  uniform,  and  I  in  my  bridesmaid's  dress. 
We  had  a  very  smart  gondola  covered  with  our  flags, 
the  white  one  uppermost  for  the  Bourbons,  which  did 
not  escape  the  notice  of  the  King,  and  the  gondoliers  in 
their  Spanish-looking  sashes  and  broad  hats.  Blanche 
looked  like  a  small  sultana  in  her  bridal  robes  sitting 
amidst  her  flags.  We  were  received  by  the  Due  de 
Levis  and  the  Comtesse  de  Chavannes  ;  there  was  also 
a  Prince  Somebody,  and  an  emissary  from  the  Pope 
waiting  for  an  audience.  As  soon  as  the  latter  came  out 
we  were  taken  in,  and  most  graciously  received  ;  and 
the  King  invited  us  to  sit.  He  was  middle  height  and 
fair,  a  beau-ideal  of  a  French  gentleman,  with  winning 
manners.  His  consort  was  tall,  gaunt,  very  dry  and 
cold,  but  she  was  kind.  They  asked  us  a  thousand 


n6      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Zafcg  JSurton 

questions ;  and  as  my  French  was  better  than  the  others', 
I  told  them  all  about  our  yachting,  and  all  we  had  seen 
and  were  going  to  see ;  and  they  were  much  interested. 
I  was  also  able  to  tell  the  King  that  when  he  was  a  little 
boy  he  had  condescended  to  ask  my  mother  to  dance, 
and  that  it  was  one  of  the  proudest  souvenirs  of  her 
life.  My  brother-in-law  behaved  with  great  ease  and 
dignity;  he  put  his  yacht  and  his  services  at  the  King's 
disposal,  and  expressed  our  respectful  attachment  to  the 
House  of  Bourbon.  We  thanked  them  for  receiving 
us.  After  about  twenty  minutes  they  saluted  us  ;  we 
curtseyed  to  the  ground,  backed  to  the  door,  repeated 
the  curtsey,  and  disappeared.  We  were  received  again 
by  the  Due  de  Levis  and  the  Comtesse  de  Chavannes, 
and  conducted  to  the  gondola.  I  am  proud  to  say  that 
we  heard  that  the  King  was  enthusiastic  about  Blanche 
and  myself,  and  subsequently  that  night  at  dinner  and 
many  a  day  after  he  spoke  of  us.  We  also  heard 
from  the  Chevalier  and  a  Vicomte  Simonet  that  the 
King  was  charmed  with  my  brother-in-law  for  turning 
the  white  flag  upwards  and  offering  him  the  use  of  his 
yacht. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MY  CONTINENTAL  TOUR:    SWITZERLAND 
(1858) 

You're  far,  yet  to  my  heart  you're  nearest  near; 
Absent,  yet  present  in  my  sprite  you  appear. 

ALF  LAYLAH  WA  LAYLAH 

(Burton's  "Arabian  Nights"). 

WE  left  Venice  one  evening  in  early  April  at  half- 
past  nine,  after  six  weeks'  stay,  and  travelled 
by  the  night  train  to  Padua.  We  then  went  through 
a  terrible  experience.  We  started  on  a  twenty-four 
hours*  drive  without  a  stoppage,  without  a  crumb  of 
bread  or  a  drop  of  water.  We  drove  through  Milan 
at  8.30  in  the  morning,  and  after  leaving  it  we  got  a 
magnificent  view  of  the  Alps,  and  had  a  very  trouble- 
some frontier.  At  last  we  came  to  Turin.  We  went 
on  in  a  train  with  a  diligence  on  it,  and  arrived  at  Susa, 
our  last  Italian  town.  Here  the  diligence  was  taken  off 
the  train.  We  had  fourteen  mules  and  two  horses,  and 
began  to  ascend  Mont  Cenis.  These  were  the  days 
when  there  were  no  trains  there.  Some  of  us  with  the 
conductor  climbed  up  the  shorter  cuts  (like  ascending 
a  chimney)  until  dark,  and  met  the  diligence.  We 

had  a  splendid  view.     But  what  a  night !     The  snow 

117 


us      Ube  IRomance  ot  Isabel  Xafcp  burton 

in  some  places  was  twenty  feet  deep,  and  the  wind  and 
sleet  seemed  as  if  they  would  sweep  us  over  ;  it  was 
wild  and  awful,  one  vast  snow  scene,  and  the  scenery 
magnificent.  At  midnight  we  came  to  the  top  ;  but 
here  was  the  worst  part,  where  the  smaller  road  begins. 
Here,  as  before,  we  only  went  at  a  foot's  pace,  and  the 
horses  could  hardly  stand.  The  men  kept  tumbling 
off,  the  vehicle  was  half  buried  in  the  snow,  there  were 
drifts  every  few  paces,  and  we  had  to  be  cut  out.  At 
Lans  le  Bourg  at  one  o'clock  we  stopped,  and  they 
gave  us  some  bad  soup,  for  which  we  gratefully  paid 
four  francs.  The  few  travellers  were  ascending  and 
descending,  asking  all  sorts  of  questions.  We  tried  to 
sleep,  but  ever  and  anon  some  accident  happened  to 
wake  us.  Every  here  and  there  we  tried  to  knock 
somebody  up  for  assistance  ;  but  it  appeared  to  me  as 
if  most  of  the  houses  of  refuge  were  shut  up,  thinking 
that  nobody  would  be  mad  enough  to  travel  in  such 
weather.  We  were  so  tired  that  it  seemed  as  if  the 
horses  were  wandering  about,  not  knowing  where  they 
were  going  to.  Everything  tumbled  about  most  un- 
comfortably in  a  snowy,  dreamy  state  of  confusion. 
Some  of  the  men  roared  with  laughter  at  one  of  the 
postilions  sprawling  off  his  horse  into  the  snow,  and 
floundering  about  without  being  able  to  get  up  again. 
Things  went  on  like  that  till  7  a.m.,  when  we  pulled  up 
at  the  station,  St.  Jean  de  Marienne,  where  we  ought  to 
have  caught  the  6  a.m.  train,  but  it  was  gone  ;  so  there 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  remain  for  the  10.20,  and  get 
a  good  breakfast.  We  took  the  10.20  train,  and  arrived 
at  1 2. 20  at  Chambery.  Here  a  civil  man  convinced  us 


Continental  Uour :  Swft3erlano        119 

that  we  had  to  choose  between  two  disagreeables  ;  so  we 
took  the  lesser,  remained  at  Chambery  till  five  o'clock, 
and  then  started  by  diligence,  and  (what  we  did  not 
know)  tired  horses. 

At  midnight,  when  body  and  soul  were  worn  out 
(we  had  not  had  our  clothes  off  for  three  days  and 
nights,  hardly  any  food  or  other  necessities;  we  had 
been  sitting  with  our  knees  up  to  our  chins  in  that 
blessed  coupe,  which  was  like  a  chimney-piece  big 
enough  for  two,  the  windows  close  to  our  faces) — 
well,  I  say,  when  body  and  soul  were  worn  out,  they 
shot  us  down  like  so  much  rubbish  at  a  miserable 
inn  at  Anne^y  at  midnight,  and  swore  they  would  go 
no  farther.  My  brother-in-law  stuck  to  his  place,  and 
refused  to  move  till  we  had  got  another  diligence 
and  fresh  horses ;  so  seeing  there  was  no  help  for 
it,  they  did  get  them,  and  transferred  our  baggage. 
Then  we  took  our  places  and  drove  off.  The  road  was 
nearly  impassable  ;  the  driver  frequently  stopped  at 
places  to  entreat  that  they  would  give  him  more  horses, 
but  all  the  inns  were  shut  up  and  asleep,  and  nobody 
cared  to  hear  him,  so  we  lost  half  an  hour  every  here 
and  there.  Morning  came,  but  we  stuck  again,  and 
were  not  near  to  the  end  of  our  journey.  We  turned 
into  an  inn,  where  we  got  some  chocolate,  and  sat  round 
a  stove  with  the  peasants,  who  chaffed  our  driver,  his 
exploits,  and  his  poor  horses.  That  morning  we  passed 
an  exquisite  bridge  over  a  chasm,  of  which  I  would  give 
worlds  to  have  a  photograph.  One  seemed  suspended 
between  heaven  and  earth.  I  learnt  afterwards  that 
my  bridge  is  between  Crusie-Caille  ;  it  is  636  feet  long, 


IRomance  of  Isabel  3Lab£  Burton 

and  656  above  the  stream.  The  old  road  winds  be- 
neath it ;  the  Sardinians  call  it  the  Ponte  Carlo  Aberto. 
A  few  more  difficulties,  and  at  10.30  a.m.,  Wednesday, 
April  7,  we  arrived  at  the  Hotel  des  Bergues,  Geneva. 
The  poor  horses  were  delighted  the  moment  they  saw 
Geneva  below,  and  put  on  a  spurt  of  themselves. 

The  Hotel  des  Bergues,  Geneva  (at  the  time  I  write), 
is  the  second  best  hotel  here ;  we  have  three  cheerful 
rooms  on  the  lake,  and  a  dull  table  d'hote  at  five  o'clock. 
The  lake  is  like  blue  crystal,  on  which  we  have  a 
five-ton  sailing-boat;  the  sky  without  a  cloud;  the 
weather  like  May.  The  nights  are  exquisite.  The 
peasants  are  ugly  ;  they  wear  big  hats,  and  speak  bad 
French.  It  is  a  terrible  place  for  stomach-ache,  owing 
to  the  mountain  water.  The  religion  is  a  contrast  to 
Italy — little  and  good.  As  I  am  Number  Three  of 
our  party,  I  have  had  all  along  to  make  my  own  life 
and  never  be  in  the  way  of  the  married  couple.  We 
arrived  here  in  time  for  the  railway  fete  ;  there  were 
flags  and  feux  de  joie,  bands,  and  a  magnificent  peasant 
ball.  Our  Minister  for  Switzerland,  whose  name  was 
Gordon,  came  for  the  fete  (the  French  Minister  refused). 
He  dined  here,  spent  the  evening  with  us,  and  took  us 
to  the  ball.  The  Union  Jack  floated  at  our  windows 
in  his  honour.  A  pretty  place  Geneva,  but  very  dull. 
The  spring  begins  to  show  itself  in  the  trees  and 
hedges.  I  long  for  the  other  side  of  the  lake.  We 
walk  and  sail  a  great  deal. 

I  have  not  heard  a  word  from  Richard,  and  I  am 
waiting  like  Patience  on  a  monument  in  grand  expecta- 
tion of  what  the  few  months  may  bring,  relying  on 


Continental  Uour:  Switserlanb        121 

his  sister  having  told  me  that  he  will  be  home  this 
summer,  when  I  feel  that  something  decisive  will  take 
place.  This  day  I  have  had  an  offer  from  an  American, 
polished,  handsome,  fifty  years  of  age,  a  widower,  with 
,£300,000  made  in  California  ;  but  there  is  only  one 
man  in  the  world  who  could  be  master  of  such  a  spirit 
as  mine.  People  may  love  (as  it  is  called)  a  thousand 
times,  but  the  real  feu  sacre  only  burns  once  in  one's 
life.  Perhaps  some  feel  more  than  others  ;  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  this  love  is  the  grandest  thing  in  this 
nether  world,  and  worth  all  the  rest  put  together.  If 
I  succeed,  I  shall  know  how  to  prove  myself  worthy 
of  it.  If  any  woman  wants  to  know  what  this  feu  sacre 
means,  let  her  ascertain  whether  she  loves  fully  and 
truly  with  brain,  heart,  and  passion.  If  one  iota  is 
wanting  in  the  balance  of  any  of  these  three  factors, 
let  her  cast  her  love  aside  as  a  spurious  article — she 
will  love  again ;  but  if  the  investigation  is  satis- 
factory, let  her  hold  it  fast,  and  let  nothing  take  it 
from  her.  For  let  her  rest  assured  love  is  the  one 
bright  vision  Heaven  sends  us  in  this  wild,  desolate, 
busy,  selfish  earth  to  cheer  us  on  to  the  goal. 

My  American  Croesus  is  not  my  only  chance.  A 
Russian  general  here,  a  man  of  about  forty  years,  with 
loads  of  decorations,  who  knows  many  languages,  is 
a  musician,  and  writes,  has  made  me  an  offer.  He  is  a 
man  of  family,  has  nine  chateaux^  and  half  a  million 
of  francs  income.  He  saw  me  at  the  altar  of  the 
Madonna,  Genoa,  two  months  ago.  He  tells  me  he  fell 
as  much  in  love  with  me  as  if  he  were  a  boy  of  fifteen. 
He  followed  me,  changed  his  hotel  to  come  here, 


las      ttbe  Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JSurton 

came  to  dinner,  and  took  the  room  next  to  me.  He 
serenades  me  on  the  violin  at  6  a.m.  and  1 1  p.m.  and 
at  7  a.m.  He  sent  me  a  bouquet  and  a  basket  of  fruit, 
and  a  letter  of  about  six  pages  long  to  tell  me  that  the 
Tsar  is  a  great  man,  that  he  (the  general)  has  bled  for 
his  country,  and  that  if  I  will  marry  him — "  Que  je  serai 
dans  ses  bras  "  (what  a  temptation!)  "  et  qu'il  me  fera  la 
deesse  du  pays."  I  refused  him  of  course. 

On  June  10,  when  we  were  in  bed  at  one  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  all  the  steamers  set  up  a  peal.  I,  who  was 
lying  awake,  rushed  to  the  window,  and  then  called  up 
the  others.  We  looked  out,  and  saw  that  apparently 
the  back  of  our  hotel  and  the  whole  Quartier  des 
Bergues  was  in  flames.  We  gave  the  alarm  in  the 
house,  ran  down  the  corridors  to  arouse  everybody, 
and  then  to  our  rooms  to  put  on  what  we  could,  collect 
a  few  treasures  and  our  animals.  I  took  the  bullfinch 
(Toby)  and  Richard's  picture,  the  Pigotts  took  each 
a  dog,  and  down  we  cut.  By  this  time  thousands  of 
people  were  running  to  the  rescue,  every  bell  in  the 
town  was  ringing,  the  whole  fire  brigade  turned  out, 
and  they  even  telegraphed  to  the  borders  of  France  to 
send  down  reinforcements.  Dozens  of  engines  were 
at  work,  and  we  soon  learnt  that  our  hotel  was  not  on 
fire,  but  that  the  fire  was  so  extensive  they  could  scarcely 
distinguish  what  was  on  fire  and  what  was  not.  In  a 
street  at  the  back  of  us  nine  houses  were  burning, 
a  cafe^  and  an  entrepot  of  inflammables ;  and  the 
pompiers  said  that  if  we  had  a  north-east  wind  in- 
stead of  a  south-west  one,  nothing  could  have  saved 
our  whole  quartier  from  destruction.  Every  soul  in 


Continental  ZTour :  Swit3erlano        123 

Geneva  was  there,  and  the  roofs  of  the  houses  were 
crowded  ;  and  we  went  up  on  the  roof  of  the  hotel  to 
see  the  wonderful  sight.  The  fire  brigade  was  on  the 
ground  for  thirty  hours.  They  could  do  nothing  for 
the  houses  already  on  fire,  but  only  prevent  its  spread- 
ing by  playing  on  the  surrounding  ones,  which  were 
red-hot,  as  was  the  back  of  our  hotel.  Fresh  firemen 
and  engines  arrived  from  France.  Among  the  animals 
destroyed  were  one  horse  and  two  cows,  some  sheep, 
and  some  goats,  in  their  sheds.  A  cage  of  birds,  fell 
and  opened,  and  the  poor  little  things  escaped,  but  in 
their  fright  flew  about  in  the  flames.  A  baby,  whom 
the  mother  forgot  in  its  bed  (most  unnatural),  and  two 
men  were  killed  :  one  was  crushed  by  the  falling  roof, 
and  the  other  burned.  Two  firemen  lost  their  lives  : 
one  in  trying  to  save  a  woman  (God  bless  him  !),  in 
which  he  succeeded,  but  fell  in  the  flames  himself; 
another  was  mortally  burnt ;  and  also  two  persons 
were  lost  whose  bodies  could  never  be  found.  It 
appeared  that  a  Frenchman  had  a  quarrel  in  the 
cafe,  and  out  of  spite  went  out  and  contrived  to  set 
it  alight.  The  populace  say  (he  is  caught  and  in 
prison)  that  they  will  lynch  him,  and  burn  him  at 
the  stake.  The  loss  of  property  is  great.  The  flames 
arose  above  the  whole  town,  and  seemed  to  lick  the 
whole  quartier.  It  was  a  dark  night,  and  everybody 
was  in  deshabille  from  their  beds,  and  there  was  a 
horrible  smell  of  burnt  flesh. 

We  started  on  July  i,  a  large  and  merry  party, 
from  Geneva  one  beautiful  morning  at  the  top  of 
the  diligence,  and  drove  through  an  English-looking 


i24      Ube  "Romance  of  Ssabel  %aos  JBurton 

country  to  Sallenches.  Here  we  took  some  vehicles 
that  ought  to  have  been  built  in  the  year  I  B.C.,  which 
shook  my  sister  quite  ill ;  but  we  who  could  walk  much 
preferred  doing  so,  as  well  for  ease  as  for  seeing  the 
scenery,  to  which  no  pen  of  mine  could  ever  do  justice. 
We  arrived  at  Chamounix  in  the  evening,  bathed  and 
dined,  and  took  a  moonlight  stroll  through  the  town 
and  valley.  Chamounix  is  the  second  thing  that  has 
never  disappointed  me.  I  look  around,  and  as  far  as 
my  .eye  can  stretch  up  and  down  the  valley  are  ranges 
of  grand  mountains,  covered  with  firs,  Alpine  roses,  and 
wild  rhododendrons,  and  above  these  splendid  peaks, 
some  covered  with  snow,  almost  overhanging  us,  and 
standing  out  in  bold  relief  against  the  bluest  of  skies. 
I  note  it  all — the  peaceful  hamlet  in  the  vale  at  the 
foot  of  Mont  Blanc,  the  church  spire  distinct  against 
that  background  of  firs  on  the  opposite  mountain- 
side, the  Orne  rushing  through  the  town,  the  balconies 
and  little  gardens,  the  valley  dotted  with  chalets,  the 
Glacier  du  Boisson  and  Mer  de  Glace  sparkling  in 
the  sun.  How  glorious  it  is ! 

We  had  to  start  next  morning  at  daybreak  before  the 
sun  should  become  too  hot.  We  dressed  in  little  thick 
boots,  red  petticoats  that  we  might  see  each  other  at 
a  distance,  brown  Holland  jackets  and  big  hats,  a  pike 
and  a  mule  and  a  guide  each,  besides  other  guides.  At 
first  the  mule  appears  to  step  like  an  ostrich,  and  you 
think  of  your  mount  at  home,  and  you  tremble  as  you 
see  the  places  he  has  to  go  up,  or,  worse,  to  go  down. 
In  time  you  arrive  at  the  top  of  the  Flegere.  From 
here  you  see  five  glaciers,  the  best  view  of  Mont  Blanc 


Continental  ZTour :  Switserlanfc        125 

and  other  peaks  too  numerous  to  mention.  We  met 
some  pleasant  people,  dined  together  at"  the  chalet,  and 
drew  caricatures  in  the  travellers'  book.  One  or  two 
of  us  went  up  as  far  as  the  Grands  Mulcts  without 
guides,  slept  there,  and  descended  early,  where  we 
picked  up  our  party.  In  the  descent  we  walked,  and 
some  of  the  mules  ran  away.  Not  finding  ourselves 
quite  pumped  by  the  descent,  we  proposed  ascending  to 
the  Chapeau  the  opposite  side,  to  look  at  the  Mer  de 
Glace,  which  we  did;  and  as  we  were  mounting  we  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  an  avalanche  and  some  smaller 
falls.  We  were  joined  by  a  party  of  seven  jolly 
Scotch  girls,  and  we  descended  with  them.  We  were 
very  tired. 

Our  next  excursion  was  to  Montanvert,  which  ascent 
was  most  magnificent.  The  lower  part  of  the  moun- 
tain is  a  garden  of  wild  flowers,  roses,  and  firs,  and 
between  the  mountains  stood  out  wondrous  peaks. 
Against  the  sky  was  the  Aiguille  Verte,  leaning  as 
much  over  as  the  Campanile  at  Pisa.  It  is  wonderful 
to  think  of  the  commotion  there  must  have  been  when 
these  immense  masses  of  rock  were  scattered  there  by 
the  convulsions  of  Nature,  and  the  trees  were  crushed. 
At  Montanvert  we  fed,  and  were  joined  by  others  from 
the  Mer  de  Glace.  Here  those  who  had  weak  heads 
went  back,  and  those  who  feared  not  nor  cared  not 
went  on.  Every  lady  had  her  guide  and  alpenstock, 
every  man  had  his  alpenstock,  and  all  of  us  were 
strapped  round  our  waists  to  hold  on  to  each  other.  A 
little  cannon  was  fired  to  tell  us  the  echo  .and  announce 
our  start.  The  first  part  was  easy  enough,  and  a  man 


126       Ube  itomance  of  Isabel  Xa&p  JSurton 

with  a  hatchet  in  advance  cut  us  footsteps.  (Albert 
Smith  has  opened  this  passage  within  five  years.) 
Here  and  there  is  a  stream  of  water,  so  pure  one  might 
fancy  it  to  be  melted  diamonds.  Thousands  of  chasms 
in  the  ice,  five  hundred  or  more  feet  deep,  of  a  beauti- 
ful blue  colour,  and  a  torrent  beneath,  had  to  be  passed 
by  a  plank  thrown  across.  What  is  a  precipice  to-day  is 
closed  up  to-morrow  by  the  constant  movement  of  the 
ice.  Take  the  tout  ensemble,  it  gives  you  the  idea  of 
a  rebellious  sea  that  had  dared  to  run  mountains  high, 
in  defiance  of  its  Creator,  who  had  struck  it  (while  in 
motion)  into  ice.  Here  and  there  came  a  furious  water- 
fall or  torrent ;  a  plank  was  then  thrown  across  in  a 
safe  part.  Once  I  slipped,  and  my  legs  fell  in,  and  my 
alpenstock  ;  but  I  clung  to  the  stump  till  hauled  up. 
Then  came  the  Mauvais  Pas.  You  descend  the  side  of 
a  precipice  by  holes  cut  for  your  feet,  and  let  yourself 
down  by  a  rope.  If  one  has  got  a  good  head,  it  is 
worth  while  looking  down.  Hamlets  look  like  a  set  of 
tea-things,  men  (if  seen  at  all)  like  ants  beneath  one  ; 
and  how  glorious  !  one  is  suspended  between  heaven 
and  earth,  and  one's  immortal  part  soars  higher  than 
the  prison  carcase  can  !  As  one  loves  to  feel  one's  own 
nothingness  by  the  side  of  the  man  to  whom  one  has 
given  one's  heart,  so  does  this  feeling  (the  best  we  own) 
increase  in  magnitude  when  it  relates  to  God.  He 
holds  you  there,  He  guards  against  that  false  step  which 
would  dash  you  to  pieces,  and  gives  you  the  power  of 
brain  to  look  below,  around,  and  upwards,  to  wonder 
and  to  thank.  I  think  this  was  the  most  intense 
excitement  of  its  sort  that  I  had  felt  in  my  girl 


Continental  Uout :  Switserlanfc        «> 

travelling  life.      At   last   we  arrived  at  the  Chapeau, 
and  descended  the  same  mountain  as  yesterday. 

The  next  day  we  proposed  ascending  the  Glacier 
du  Boisson,  and  reascending  Mont  Blanc  for  a  few  hours ; 
but  some  of  our  party  were  anxious  to  get  home,  so 
we  ordered  some  rackety  vehicles  for  Argentieres  next 
morning,  and  there  the  strong  betook  themselves  to 
their  legs  and  alpenstocks,  and  the  weak  to  mules. 
We  strolled  gaily  along,  making  wreaths  of  wild 
flowers  for  our  hats,  singing  the  Ranz  des  Vaches 
and  all  that,  though  still  in  Savoy,  and  we  mounted 
the  Col  de  Balme.  This  is  one  of  the  darkest  and 
sublimest  views  imaginable.  On  one  side  you  look  down 
the  valley  of  Chamounix  and  the  Savoy  Mountains  ; 
the  Col  seems  like  a  high  barrier  with  one  hut  on  it. 
On  the  other  side  you  look  over  the  Bernese  Alps, 
and  you  see  a  spectacle  not  of  everyday  occurrence. 
Turn  to  Switzerland,  all  is  sunshiny,  bright,  and  gay  ; 
turn  to  Savoy,  a  thunder-storm  is  rolling  along  the 
valley  beneath,  and  you  stand  there  on  the  Col  in 
winter,  in  snow,  shivering,  hail,  wind,  and  sleet  driving 
in  your  face.  You  see  on  one  side,  half  a  mile  below, 
autumn  ;  on  the  other  spring,  with  buttercups,  daisies 
and  all  sorts  of  wild  flowers,  and  forsooth  the  cuckoo ; 
and  at  the  bottom  of  both  valleys  is  summer,  bright  or 
stormy.  At  this  place  the  ruffian  who  keeps  the  hut 
makes  you  pay  twenty-eight  francs  for  a  slice  of  ham, 
and  you  come  out  rather  amused  at  the  people  who 
are  swearing  on  that  account.  Some  delicate  ladies  are 
in  semi-hysterics  at  the  storm,  or  the  black,  frowning 
spot  on  which  we  find  ourselves,  and  are  rushing  about, 


128       Ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xaop  3Burton 

making  tender  inquiries  after  each  other's  sensitive 
feelings.  After  an  hour's  rest  we  start,  the  weak  ones 
for  Martigny,  the  strong  by  a  steep  path  in  the  moun- 
tains, which  brings  us  after  a  couple  of  hours  to  spring. 
But  stop  awhile  in  winter.  A  black  range  of  mountains 
dark  and  desolate  are  dressed  in  thunder-clouds.  You 
feel  awed,  yet  you  would  rather  see  it  so  than  in 
sunshine.  A  small  bit  of  table-land  is  on  the  side  ; 
it  makes  you  think  of  an  exile  in  Siberia  or  Dante's 
Damned  Soul  in  a  Hell  of  Snow.  We  were  all  silent. 
No  doubt  we  all  made  our  reflections;  and  mine  ran 
thus  : 

"If  an  angel  from  heaven  came  from  Almighty 
God,  and  told  you  that  Richard  was  condemned  to  be 
chained  on  that  plateau  for  a  hundred  years  in  expia- 
tion of  his  sins  before  he  could  enter  heaven,  and 
gave  you  the  choice  between  sharing  his  exile  with 
him  or  a  throne  in  the  world  beneath,  which  would 
you  choose  ? " 

My  answer  did  not  keep  me  long  in  suspense  ;  it 
came  in  this  form  : 

"  A  throne  would  be  exile  without  him,  and  exile  with 
him  a  home  !  " 

We  reached  spring,  and  passed  the  chalets  where 
Gruyere  cheese  is  made  ;  and  I  stopped  the  herdsman, 
and  took  a  lesson  in  the  Ranz  des  Vaches  amidst 
much  laughter,  and  to  the  evident  amusement  of  a 
cuckoo,  who  chimed  in.  The  descent  of  the  Tete  Noir 
is  the  most  beautiful  thing  we  have  seen  ;  at  any  rate, 
it  is  the  most  graven  on  my  memory.  It  is  down  the 
side  of  magnificently  wooded  mountains,  with  bridges 


Continental  ^Lout:  Switserlano        129 

of  a  primitive  kind,  overhanging  precipices,  and  looks 
into  the  dark  valley,  part  of  which  never  sees  the  sun. 
Here  we  sang  snatches  of  Linda  de  Chamounix  ;  the 
scenery  reminds  one  of  it,  and  comes  up  to,  or  even 
surpasses,  all  that  I  have  read  or  thought.  In  one 
place  we  came  to  an  immense  rock  that  had  fallen, 
and  was  just  on  the  balance  over  a  precipice,  and  there 
it  has  hung  for  hundreds  and  thousands  of  years.  The 
peasants  are  fait  soit  feu  sauvage,  and  they  dealt  us  out 
plainly  plenty  of  chaff,  as  they  gave  us  water,  in  the 
fond  belief  that  we  did  not  understand  French.  At 
length  we  reached  the  chalet  where  travellers  feed. 
After  dinner  at  nine  o'clock  the  moon  rose,  and  we 
went  through  a  splendid  forest  on  a  mountain-side,  with 
a  torrent  dashing  below.  I  lit  my  cigarette,  and  went 
a  little  ahead  of  my  party.  There  are  sacred  moments 
and  heavenly  scenes  I  cannot  share  with  the  common 
herd.  There  was  only  one  voice  which  I  could  have 
borne  to  break  the  silence,  and  that,  like  heaven,  was  so 
far  off  as  to  be  like  a  fable  now.  At  length  we  arrived 
at  a  hut  at  the  top  of  the  Mont  Forclaz,  a  hut  where  we 
must  have  our  passport  vised — why,  I  do  not  know,  as 
we  have  long  since  been  in  Switzerland.  The  gendarme 
grumbled  something  about  "eccentric  English  who 
scale  the  mountains  in  the  night."  A  hint  to  be  quick 
is  all  he  gets,  and  we  descend.  Now  we  were  so  tired 
that  we  mounted  our  mules  on  the  assurance  that  it 
would  rest  us ;  but  such  a  descent  I  should  never  care 
to  do  again.  The  road  was  steep  and  unfinished ;  the 
moon  was  under  a  cloud ;  there  were  precipices  on 
each  side.  The  step  of  the  mule  sends  one  upon  a 

9 


i3o      Ube  "Romance  ot  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

narrow,  hard  saddle,  bumping  one  moment  against  the 
pommels,  and  the  next  on  to  the  baggage  here  and 
there.  There  is  a  roll  over  a  loose  stone  ;  but  the 
clever  mule,  snuffing  and  pawing  its  way,  nimbly  puts 
its  feet  together,  and  slides  down  a  slab  of  rock.  My 
companions  got  down  and  walked,  tired  as  they  were. 
I  really  could  not ;  and  seeing  the  mule  was  so  much 
cleverer  than  myself,  I  knotted  the  bridle  and  threw  it 
on  his  back,  and  in  the  dark  put  my  leg  over  the  other 
side,  and  rode  down  straddle  like  a  man,  half  an  hour 
in  advance  of  the  rest.  They  said  there  were  wolves 
on  these  mountains,  but  I  did  not  see  or  hear  any.  I 
had  only  my  pike  to  defend  myself  with,  and  should 
have  been  in  an  awful  fright  had  I  come  across  a  wolf. 
At  midnight  I  reached  the  hotel  at  Martigny,  and 
went  to  bed. 

Our  next  move  was  to  charter  a  carriage  that  would 
hold  us  all  inside  and  out.  We  had  a  splendid  drive 
through  the  valley  of  the  Rhone  for  some  days,  and 
visited  many  places. 

I  was  immensely  impressed  by  Chillon  at  night. 
The  lake  lies  at  our  feet  like  a  huge  crystal  with  a 
broad  track  of  moonlight  on  it.  A  moment  ago  it 
was  fine  starlight,  and  now  the  moon  rises  behind  the 
Dent  du  Midi,  lighting  up  those  magnificent  moun- 
tains too  brightly  for  the  stars.  Vevey  is  asleep,  and 
no  noise  is  heard  save  the  splash  of  an  oar,  or  a  bit 
of  loose  rock  rolling  with  a  crash  down  the  mountain, 
or  the  buzz  of  some  insect  going  home  late.  A  bat 
flutters  near  my  face  now  and  then  ;  there  is  a  distant 
note  from  a  nightingale.  How  refreshing  is  the  soft 


Continental  ZTour :  Sw(t3erlan&        131 

Breeze  and  the  sweet  smell  of  the  hay  after  the  heat  of  the 
day  !  And  now  crossing  the  moonlight  track,  westward 
bound,  glides  a  lateen  sail  like  a  colossal  swan.  These  are 
the  scenes  that,  save  for  the  God  Who  made  them,  let  us 
know  we  are  alone  on  earth.  These  are  the  moments 
when  we  miss  the  hand  we  want  to  clasp  in  ours  without 
speaking,  and  yet  be  understood ;  but  my  familiar  spirit 
with  whom  I  could  share  these  moments  is  not  here. 

At  last  we  received  orders  to  be  ready  within  an 
hour's  notice  to  leave  Geneva  for  Lausanne,  and  we 
were  very  glad  to  obey.  We  had  been  too  Jong 
at  Geneva,  and  were  heartily  tired  of  it,  especially 
after  all  the  beautiful  things  we  had  seen.  It  was, 
however,  found  that  the  cutter  would  not  hold  us  all ; 
so  the  maid  and  I  went  with  the  baggage  and  animals, 
and  also  Mr.  Richard  Sykes  (who  brought  a  letter 
from  my  brother  Jack,  a  charming,  gentlemanly  boy  of 
twenty,  who  joined  us  for  a  few  weeks),  by  steamer 
to  Lausanne,  and  put  up  at  an  auberge  at  Ouchy  on 
the  water's  edge,  where  we  waited  the  sailing  party. 
Ouchy  consists  (1858)  of  a  humble  street  and  an  old- 
fashioned  inn  at  the  water's  edge  beneath  Lausanne. 
Here  we  took  three  little  rooms,  one  for  Mr.  Sykes,  one 
for  the  maid,  and  one  for  me,  which  was  half  bedroom, 
half  drawing-room,  with  a  good  view.  The  others 
arrived  in  a  few  days,  having  met  the  bise  and  had  to 
put  back  to  port.  Here  I  found  some  one  with  whom 
I  could  begin  German.  I  rowed  and  swam  a  great 
deal.  There  is  a  beautiful  country  for  driving  and 
walking,  and  our  chaloupe  is  now  at  anchor.  In  this 
last  we  were  able  to  make  excursions. 


132       TTbe  "Romance  of  30abel  Xaog  JBurton 

Among  other  places  we  ran  over  to  Evian,  twelve  miles 
across  on  the  opposite  coast.  There  were  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  people  in  the  hotel,  who  were  very  kind, 
and  made  a  great  fuss  with  us  ;  and  we  had  great  fun, 
though  they  had  great  difficulty  in  making  room  for 
us.  Mr.  Sykes  had  to  go  to  an  old  tower  in  the  garden, 
and  my  room  was  somewhere  under  the  tiles.  We 
often  gave  them  supper  and  cigarettes  at  11.30,  after 
music  and  impromptu  dancing  in  the  evening.  They 
were  all  vastly  kind  to  us,  and  when  we  went  away 
they  came  down  to  see  us  off"  in  our  cutter. 

When  we  got  half-way  across  the  lake,  I  said  to  my 
brother-in-law,  "  Does  it  not  look  rather  like  wind  out 
there  ?  "  He  gave  a  short,  quick  command  at  once  to 
take  every  bit  of  sail  down  ;  but  we  knew  nothing  of 
lake-sailing,  though  we  knew  sea-sailing,  and  before  we 
had  got  it  half  down  the  wind  came  upon  us  like  a  wall, 
and  threw  us  on  our  side.  Our  bobstay  snapped  like 
sealing-wax,  our  mainsail  rent  like  ribbon,  our  foresail 
flew  away,  and  she  would  not  answer  her  helm,  and  we 
remained  in  the  trough  of  the  waves,  which  rose  awfully 
high.  We  then  cut  away  the  jib.  We  had  given  up 
all  hope,  having  beaten  about  for  a  long  time,  and  two 
of  us  had  been  in  the  water  for  three-quarters  of  an 
hour.  At  length  we  spied  five  boats  putting  out  to 
us,  and  we  were  truly  thankful.  It  appeared  that  the 
fishermen  had  refused  to  come  before,  because  they  were 
convinced  we  had  gone  down  long  ago,  and  all  the 
village  people  were  on  their  knees  praying  for  us.  We 
were  safely  towed  in  by  the  five  boats,  much  too  disabled 
to  help  ourselves,  and  the  cutter  was  smashed  to  pieces. 


Continental  Uour :  Switserlanfc        133 

We  rewarded  the  men  liberally,  got  some  brandy,  dried 
our  clothes,  and  went  back  by  the  next  steamer. 

There  was  a  grand  fete  at  Lausanne.  The  canteen 
of  Swiss  woodwork  was  decorated  with  branches,  and 
there  were  shooting-galleries,  the  usual  booths  and 
whirligigs,  a  very  respectable  vagrant  theatre,  a  dancing- 
circus  and  band.  The  streets  were  all  festooned  with 
garlands,  and  bits  of  sentiment  such  as,  "  Liberte  et 
patrie,"  "  Un  bras  pour  la  defendre,  un  coeur  pour 
1'aimer,"  etc. 

It  was  cloudless  weather  that  evening  at  Lausanne, 
the  sky  clear  and  high,  the  country  fresh,  green,  and 
sweet-smelling.  The  mountains  surrounded  one-half 
the  lake  with  twenty  different  shades  at  the  setting 
sun,  from  palest  pink  on  the  snow-peaks  to  the  deepest 
purple  on  the  rocks.  It  was  all  quiet  enough  after 
leaving  the  merriment  of  the  fair,  with  only  the  noise 
of  birds  or  bees,  and  the  sweet  smell  of  wild  flowers  in 
the  fresh  air.  Later  the  evening  star  came  out  in  the 
pale  sky,  and  the  glow-worms  shone  like  brilliants  in 
the  grass.  I  thought  of  Richard  in  that  far-away 
swamp  in  Central  Africa,  and  a  voiceless  prayer  rose 
to  my  lips.  I  wonder  if  he  too  is  thinking  of  me 
at  this  time?  And  as  I  thought  an  angelic  whisper 
knocked  at  my  heart  and  murmured,  "  Yes." 

After  we  had  been  at  Lausanne  some  time,  I  got 
ill.  I  was  fretting  because  there  was  no  news  at  all 
about  Richard ;  I  had  been  hoping  to  hear  from 
him  for  two  months.  I  had  enough  of  the  climate 
too.  I  had  a  habit  of  rowing  myself  out  a  little  way, 
undressing  in  the  boat,  jumping  in  for  a  swim,  climbing 


r34      ttbe  IRomance  of  Ssabel  Xafcs  JSurton 

back  into  the  boat,  and  rowing  ashore  ;  and  one  day  I 
was  too  hot,  and  I  just  had  the  strength  to  give  the  last 
pull  to  the  oar  ashore,  when  I  fainted.  There  were  no 
doctors,  no  medicines,  and  I  lay  ill  on  my  very  hard 
bed  with  a  dreadful  pain  in  my  side  for  three  weeks. 
But  I  was  too  strong  to  die  ;  and  one  day  somebody  got 
me  a  bottle  of  Kirschwasser,  and  drinking  it  in  small 
quantities  at  a  time  seemed  to  take  away  the  pain; 
but  I  was  very  pale  and  ill,  and  every  one  said  I  had 
rheumatic  fever.  We  were  all  three  more  or  less  ill,  and 
did  not  like  to  part  ;  but  it  was  a  necessity,  so  I  was 
sent  forward  with  twelve  pieces  of  baggage  and  sixteen 
napoleons  to  work  my  way  from  Ouchy  to  Honfleur, 
where  I  was  to  wait  for  my  brother-in-law  and  sister, 
Honfleur  being  a  quieter  place  than  Havre.  Poor 
Blanche  looked  so  worn  and  sad ! 

I  got  in  a  railway-carriage  by  myself,  and  asked  the 
guard  to  look  after  me  because  I  was  alone  ;  but  just 
before  the  train  started  he  put  in  a  man,  and  begged 
my  pardon,  saying  it  was  inevitable,  as  there  was  not  a 
place  in  any  other  carriage.  In  about  twenty  minutes 
the  man  began  to  make  horrible  faces  at  me,  and  I  was 
so  dreadfully  frightened  I  felt  I  must  speak  ;  so  I 
said,  "  I  am  afraid  you  are  ill "  ;  and  he  said,  "  Yes ;  I 
am  very  sorry,  but  I  am  going  to  have  an  epileptic 
fit."  He  was  almost  immediately  black,  and  in  horrible 
contortions.  It  was  an  express  train.  There  was  no 
means  of  communicating  with  the  guard  (1858),  and 
there  was  no  use  in  screaming  ;  so,  frightened  though 
I  was,  I  pulled  the  man  down  on  the  ground,  undid 
his  cravat,  and  loosened  all  about  his  neck.  I  had  no 


Continental  ZTour :  Swttserlanfc        135 

medicine  with  me,  except  a  quarter  of  a  bottle  of 
sweet  spirits  of  nitre,  which  I  was  taking  for  rheumatic 
fever.  I  poured  it  all  down  his  throat,  and  then  I 
covered  his  face  over  with  a  black  silk  handkerchief 
I  had  round  my  neck,  that  I  might  not  see  him,  and 
squeezed  myself  up  in  the  farthest  corner.  In  about 
twenty  minutes  he  came  to,  and  asked  me  how  long 
he  had  been  like  that.  I  told  him,  and  he  asked  me 
if  I  was  dreadfully  frightened,  and  I  said,  "  Yes."  He 
said,  "I  am  subject  to  these  fits,  but  they  generally 
last  much  longer  ;  this  has  been  very  slight."  So  I 
said,  "1  think  it  is  my  duty  to  tell  you  that  I  have 
put  about  three  ounces  of  spirits  of  nitre  down  your 
throat."  He  said,  ff  Well,  I  think  it  must  have  done 
me  good,  because  I  feel  very  comfortable."  I  called 
the  guard  the  first  station  we  arrived  at,  told  him 
what  had  occurred,  and  begged  him  to  move  me  into 
a  carriage  with  other  people,  which  he  did.  I  never 
knew  anything  so  slow  as  the  trains  were;  and  at  the 
stations  there  seemed  no  one  to  help,  nor  to  tell  one 
where  anything  was.  I  got  two  seats  with  my  back  to 
the  engine,  so  that  I  could  lie  down.  The  heat  was 
intense.  The  carriage  was  crammed.  There  was  a 
ladylike  little  woman,  with  a  brawny  nurse  and  two  of 
the  worst-behaved  children  I  ever  saw.  They  fought, 
and  sang,  and  cried,  and  teased  my  bullfinch,  and 
kicked  my  shins,  and  trod  on  my  toes ;  but  the 
mother  was  too  nice  to  offend,  and  so  I  bore  it.  At 
Maoon  at  8  p.m.  we  stopped  to  sup  ;  and  then  I  felt 
I  could  bear  no  more  of  it,  so  I  begged  the  guard  to 
change  me  to  a  quiet  carriage,  and  he  put  me  in  with 


136      TTbe  IRomance  ot  Isabel  Xa&s  Burton 

two  gentlemanly  Spaniards.  There  was  plenty  of  room, 
and  we  had  a  quiet  night  enough,  only  one  of  them 
was  so  long  that  every  now  and  then  in  his  sleep  he 
put  his  feet  into  my  lap  or  on  the  birdcage. 

We  arrived  at  6  a.m.,  and  drove  for  at  least  an  hour 
to  the  Havre  station  in  the  pouring  rain.  Here  my 
troubles  began.  It  was  past  seven,  the  train  was  at  8.25  ; 
so  I  thought  I  had  time  to  get  a  little  breakfast  at  the 
cafe.  I  did  so,  and  returned.  The  porters  were  very 
rude  to  me,  and  refused  to  weigh  my  baggage,  saying  I 
was  too  late.  In  vain  I  entreated,  and  I  had  to  return 
to  my  cafe  and  sit  in  a  miserable  room  from  8  o'clock 
to  i  p.m.  I  drank  a  bottle  of  gingerbeer,  and  did  my 
accounts,  but  my  head  was  too  stupid  to  do  them 
properly  ;  so  with  the  idea  that  I  had  only  forty-eight 
francs  left,  I  had  taken  my  ticket  to  Havre,  but  not 
paid  the  baggage,  and  I  had  still  to  get  to  Honfleur.  I 
then  got  scared  with  fancying  I  had  lost  four  napoleons, 
and  sat  looking  at  my  purse  in  despair.  Then  I  discovered 
I  had  lost  a  bunch  of  keys,  that  the  turquoise  had  fallen 
out  of  my  ring,  that  I  had  broken  my  back  comb,  and 
left  behind  part  of  my  dressing-case.  Then  it  suddenly 
occurred  to  me  that  I  had  no  blessing  because  I  had 
not  said  my  morning  prayers ;  so  I  at  once  knelt  down, 
and  during  my  prayers  a  light  flashed  on  me  that  there 
were  five  napoleons  to  a  hundred  francs,  and  the  money 
was  right  to  a  farthing,  so  I  rose  with  a  thankful  heart 
heedless  of  smaller  evils.  I  took  the  one  o'clock  train, 
which  went  fast.  It  was  hot,  windy,  dusty,  crowded ;  but 
no  matter,  I  drove  straight  to  the  boat.  Alas !  it  was 
gone,  and  I  had  only  a  few  francs.  There  was  nothing 


Continental  Uour :  Switaerlano        137 

for  it  but  to  go  to  the  hotel  opposite  the  boats,  and 
ask  for  a  room,  a  hot  bath,  some  tea  and  bread- 
and-butter  (I  had  been  out  thirty-six  hours  without 
rest).  I  was  on  board  the  first  boat,  which  steamed 
off  at  a  quarter  to  seven  in  the  morning,  and  at 
eight  was  safely  housed  at  the  Hotel  d'Angleterre, 
Honfleur,  forty-eight  hours  after  leaving  Ouchy,  with 
three-ha'pence  in  my  pocket.  Unfortunately  at  Havre 
there  was  a  law  by  which  the  porters  were  not  obliged 
to  weigh  your  baggage  unless  you  came  half  an 
hour  before  the  time,  but  that  nobody  ever  did,  and 
they  would  not  dare  nor  think  of  refusing  a  French 
person  ;  but  because  I  was  an  English  girl,  and  alone, 
they  abused  their  power.  I  was  only  five  minutes 
after  time  ;  there  was  twenty-five  minutes  to  spare, 
and  they  were  rude  into  the  bargain.  They  are 
not  paid  by  Government  (1858),  and  there  is  no 
tariff.  They  follow  you  like  a  flock  of  sheep,  and 
say,  "  We  will  carry  your  baggage  if  you  pay  us, 
and  if  not  we  will  not."  My  purse  prevented  my 
being  very  free-handed ;  they  would  not  take  less 
than  a  franc  and  a  half,  and  slang  you  for  that ;  and 
I  spent  eighteen  francs  on  them  between  Lausanne  and 
Honfleur. 

Honfleur  is  a  horrid  place.  It  is  a  fishing  town,  con- 
taining about  ten  thousand  people  of  an  inferior  class, 
as  dull  as  the  grave,  no  society,  and,  still  worse,  not  the 
necessaries  of  life — the  only  good  things  are  the  fruit, 
the  sea,  and  country.  There  are  two  hotels,  which  in 
England  we  should  call  public-houses  ;  not  a  room  fit 
to  sleep  in,  so  I  have  had  a  bed  put  in  a  kind  of 


138       TTbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

observatory  at  the  top  of  the  house.  I  can  shut  out  all, 
and  live  with  nature  and  my  books.  There  is  a  terrace, 
and  at  high  tide  the  sea  rolls  under  it,  and  at  a  stretch 
I  could  fancy  myself  on  board  a  ship  ;  but,  thank  God, 
I  am  getting  better. 

They  come  and  ask  you  what  you  would  like  for 
dinner  : 

"  Ce  que  vous  avez  a  la  maison  ;  je  ne  suis  pas 
difficile."  "  Nous  avons  tout  du  melon,  par  exemple — 
des  crevettes,"  etc. 

What  they  want  to  feed  me  on  here  are  melons 
and  water.  An  Englishman  came  the  other  day,  very 
hungry,  and  wanted  to  dine.  "  Voulez-vous  une  omelette, 
monsieur  ?  "  "  Damn  your  omelette  !  "  he  said  ;  "  I  want 
to  dine."  He  was  obliged  to  go.  The  servants  are 
one  remove  from  animals,  and  the  family  ditto,  except 
madame,  who  is  charming.  The  weather  is  beastly,  the 
sea  is  muddy,  the  sand  all  dirt;  there  is  not  a  piano  in 
the  town.  The  baths  are  half  an  hour  from  here,  and 
the  Basse  gents  are  excessively  sauvage.  But  even  in 
this  fifth-rate  society  I  found  a  grain  of  wheat  among  the 
chafF — a  Parisian  Spanish  woman,  the  wife  of  a  physician, 
here  for  her  child's  health,  very  spirttuelle,  not  pretty, 
and  devoted  to  Paris.  We  smoke  and  read,  and  she 
gives  me  the  benefit  of  her  experience,  which  I  really 
think  I  had  better  have  been  without ;  but  she  is  a  jolly 
little  creature,  and  I  do  not  know  how  I  should  pass 
my  time  without  her. 

Blanche  and  my  brother-in-law  joined  me  at  Honfleur 
a  fortnight  after  my  arrival  ;  and  having  received  a 
draft  for  fresh  supplies,  we  determined  to  start  next 


Continental  TTour :  SwitserlanO        139 

day.  We  had  a  delightful  trip  of  six  hours  up  the 
Seine  to  Rouen  ;  we  revisited  the  old  cathedral,  and 
walked  up  to  that  little  gem  Notre  Dame  de  bon 
Secours.  I  am  very  fond  of  Rouen ;  it  is  such  a  lovely 
place.  We  went  on  to  Dieppe,  and  had  a  calm  passage 
to  Southampton.  Once  more  I  was  in  England.  We 
went  straight  to  London,  and  home. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THEY  MEET  AGAIN 
(1858—1860) 

Allah  guard  a  true  lover,  who  strives  with  love 
And  hath  borne  the  torments  I  still  abide, 
And  seeing  me  bound  in  the  cage  with  mind 
Of  ruth  release  me  my  love  to  find. 

ALF  LAYLAH  WA  LAYLAH 

(Burton's  "Arabian  Nights"). 

WHILE  Isabel  was  touring  through  Italy  and 
Switzerland,  Burton  was  fighting  his  way 
through  the  Central  African  jungle  to  find  the  fabled 
lakes  beyond  the  Usagara  Mountains,  which  at  that 
time  the  eye  of  the  white  man  had  never  seen. 

It  is  necessary  to  give  a  brief  sketch  of  this  expedi- 
tion, and  of  the  difference  between  Burton  and  Speke 
which  arose  from  it,  because  these  things  influenced  to 
a  considerable  degree  Isabel's  after-life.  She  was  always 
defending  her  husband's  position  and  fighting  the  case 
of  Burton  versus  Speke. 

As  already  stated,  Burton  left  London  in  October, 
1856.  He  went  to  Bombay,  applied  for  Captain  Speke 
to  accompany  him  as  second  in  command  of  his  expedi- 
tion into  the  unknown  regions  of  Central  Africa,  and 

140 


fl&eet  Haafn  141 

landed  at  Zanzibar  in  December.  The  Royal  Geo- 
graphical Society  had  obtained  for  him  a  grant  of 
.£1,000,  and  the  Court  of  Directors  of  the  East  India 
Company  had  given  him  two  years'  leave. 

On  June  26,  1 857,  after  an  experimental  trip,  they  set 
out  in  earnest  on  their  journey  into  the  far  interior. 
Burton  was  handicapped  by  a  very  inadequate  force, 
and  he  had  to  make  his  way  through  hostile  savage 
tribes ;  yet  he  determined  to  risk  it,  and  in  eighteen 
days  achieved  the  first  stage  of  the  journey.  Despite 
sickness  and  every  imaginable  difficulty,  the  little  band 
arrived  at  K'hutu. 

Thence  they  marched  to  Zungomero,  a  pestilential 
Slough  of  Despond.  Here  they  rested  a  fortnight, 
and  then  began  the  ascent  of  the  Usagara  Mountains. 
They  managed  to  climb  to  the  frontier  of  the  second 
region,  or  Ghauts.  They  then  pushed  on,  up  and 
down  the  ranges  of  these  mountains,  sometimes  through 
the  dismal  jungle,  sometimes  through  marshy  swamps, 
sometimes  along  roads  strewn  with  corpses  and  victims 
of  loathsome  diseases,  tormented  always  by  insects  and 
reptiles,  and  trembling  with  ague,  with  swimming  heads, 
ears  deafened  by  weakness,  and  legs  that  would  scarcely 
support  them,  threatened  by  savages  without  and 
deserters  within,  until  at  last  they  reached  the  top 
of  the  third  and  westernmost  range  of  the  Usagara 
Mountains.  The  second  stage  of  the  journey  was 
accomplished. 

After  a  rest  they  went  through  the  fiery  heat  of  the 
Mdaburu  jungle,  where  they  were  much  troubled  by 
their  mutinous  porters.  At  last  they  entered  Kazeh. 


Ube  TComance  ot  Ssabel  %afc£  Burton 


The  Arabs  helped  them  here  (Burton  always  got  on 
well  with  Arabs),  and  they  rested  for  a  space.  On 
January  10,  1858,  they  reached  M'hali,  and  here 
Burton  was  smitten  by  partial  paralysis,  brought  on  by 
malaria  ;  his  eyes  were  also  afflicted,  and  death  seemed 
imminent.  But  in  a  little  time  he  was  better,  and 
again  they  pushed  on  through  the  wilderness.  At  last, 
on  February  13,  1858,  just  when  they  were  in  despair, 
their  longing  eyes  were  gladdened  by  the  first  glimpse 
of  the  Lake  Tanganyika,  the  sea  of  Ujiji,  laying  like 
an  enchanted  lake  "  in  the  lap  of  the  mountains,  bask- 
ing in  the  gorgeous  tropical  sunshine." 

For  the  first  known  time  in  the  world's  history 
European  eyes  rested  on  this  loveliness.  It  is  only 
fair  therefore  to  remember  that  in  the  discovery  of 
Lake  Tanganyika  Burton  was  the  pioneer.  His  was 
the  brain  which  planned  and  commanded  the  expedition, 
and  it  was  he  who  first  achieved  with  inadequate  means 
and  insufficient  escort  what  Livingstone,  Cameron, 
Speke,  Grant,  Baker,  and  Stanley  achieved  later.  If  he 
had  possessed  their  advantages  of  men  and  money, 
what  might  he  not  have  done  ! 

At  Ujiji  they  rested  for  some  time  ;  they  had 
travelled  nine  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  and  had  taken 
more  than  seven  and  a  half  months  over  the  journey  on 
account  of  the  delay  arising  from  danger  and  illness. 
They  spent  a  month  cruising  about  the  lake,  which, 
however,  they  were  not  able  to  explore  thoroughly. 

On  May  28,  1858,  Burton  and  Speke  started  on  the 
homeward  route.  In  due  time  they  reached  Kazeh 
again.  Here,  Burton  being  ill,  and  Speke  not  being 


fl&eet  a^atn  us 

able  to  get  on  with  the  Arabs,  who  abounded  at  Kazeh, 
it  was  decided  that  Burton  should  remain  at  Kazeh  to 
prepare  and  send  reports,  and  that  Speke  should  go  in 
search  of  the  unknown  lake  (now  called  Nyanza)  which 
the  merchants  had  told  them  was  some  sixteen  marches 
to  the  north.  So  Speke  set  out.  After  some  six  or 
seven  weeks  he  returned  to  Kazeh.  His  flying  trip 
had  led  him  to  the  northern  water,  which  he  found  to 
be  an  immense  lake  (Nyanza),  and  he  announced  that 
he  had  discovered  the  sources  of  the  White  Nile.  On 
this  point  Burton  was  sceptical,  and  from  this  arose 
a  controversy  upon  which  it  is  unnecessary  to  enter. 
There  were  probably  faults  on  both  sides.  The  differ- 
ence between  Burton  and  Speke  was  much  to  be 
regretted  ;  I  only  allude  to  it  here  because  it  influenced 
the  whole  of  Burton's  subsequent  career,  and  by  so 
doing  affected  also  that  of  his  wife. 

At  Kazeh  Burton  decided  that  they  must  return  to 
the  seacoast  by  the  way  they  came.  So  they  beat  their 
way  back  across  the  fiery  field  to  the  usual  accompani- 
ments of  quarrels,  mutinies,  and  -desertions  among  the 
porters.  At  one  place  Speke  was  dangerously  ill, 
but  Burton  nursed  him  through.  They  recrossed  the 
Usagara  Mountains,  and  struggled  through  mud  and 
jungle,  and  at  last  caught  sight  of  the  sea.  They 
made  a  triumphal  entrance  to  Konduchi,  the  seaport 
village.  They  embarked  and  landed  in  Zanzibar  on 
March  4,  1859.  Here  Burton  wanted  to  get  fresh 
leave  of  absence  and  additional  funds  ;  but  the  evident 
desire  of  the  British  Consul  to  get  rid  of  him  (because 
he  was  too  friendly  with  the  Sultan),  and  the  impatience 


r44       ftbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xabg  Burton 

of  Speke  to  return  to  England,  caused  him  to  abandon 
the  idea.  Just  then  H.M.S.  Furious  arrived  at  Aden, 
and  passage  homeward  was  offered  to  both  of  them. 
Burton  was  too  ill  to  go  ;  but  Speke  went,  and  his  last 
words,  according  to  Burton,  were :  "  Good-bye,  old 
fellow.  You  may  be  quite  sure  I  shall  not  go  up  to 
the  Royal  Geographical  Society  until  you  come  to  the 
fore  and  we  appear  together.  Make  your  mind  quite 
easy  about  that." 

Nevertheless,  when  Burton  arrived  in  England  on 
May  21,  1859  (having  been  absent  two  years  and 
eight  months),  he  found  the  ground  cut  from  under 
his  feet.  Speke  had  arrived  in  London  twelve  days 
before,  and  the  day  after  his  arrival  had  called  at  the 
headquarters  of  the  Royal  Geographical  Society,  told 
his  own  tale,  and  obtained  the  leadership  of  a  new 
expedition.  Burton,  who  had  originated  and  carried 
out  the  expedition,  found  himself  shelved,  neglected, 
and  thrust  aside  by  his  lieutenant,  who  claimed  and 
received  the  whole  credit  for  himself.  Moreover, 
Speke  had  spread  all  sorts  of  ugly — and  I  believe 
untrue — reports  about  Burton.  These  coming  on  top 
of  certain  other  rumours — also,  I  believe,  untrue — 
which  had  originated  in  India,1  were  only  too  readily 
believed.  When  Burton  got  home,  he  found  that  the 
Government  and  the  Royal  Geographical  Society 
regarded  him  with  disapproval,  and  society  looked 
askance  at  him.  Instead  of  being  honoured,  he  was 

1  Burton  alludes  to  this  prejudice  against  him  in  the  original 
(1886)  edition  of  his  Arabian  Nights,  "  Alf  Laylah  wa  Laylah," 
Terminal  Essay,  Section  D,  pp.  205,  206. 


flDeet  again  145 

suspected  and  under  a  cloud.  One  may  imagine  how 
his  spirit  chafed  under  this  treatment.  He  was 
indeed  a  most  unlucky  man.  Yet  in  spite  of  the 
crowd  of  false  friends  and  open  enemies,  in  spite 
of  all  the  calumny  and  suspicion  and  injustice,  there 
was  one  heart  which  beat  true  to  him.  And  then 
it  was  that  Burton  proved  the  strength  of  a  woman's 
love. 

Isabel  had  been  back  in  England  from  her  Continental 
tour  just  a  year  when  Burton  came  home.  It  had 
been  a  terribly  anxious  year  for  her  ;  she  had  written 
to  him  regularly,  and  kept  him  well  posted  in  all  that 
was  going  on  ;  but  naturally  her  letters  only  reached 
him  at  intervals.  News  of  him  had  been  meagre  and 
infrequent,  and  there  were  long  periods  of  silence 
which  made  her  sick  at  heart  with  anxiety  and  dread. 
The  novelty  and  excitement  of  her  trip  abroad  had  to 
some  extent  diverted  her  mind,  but  when  she  came 
home  all  her  doubts  and  fears  returned  with  threefold 
force.  The  monotony  and  inaction  of  her  life  chafed 
her  active  spirit ;  the  lack  of  sympathy  and  the  want  of 
some  one  in  whom  she  could  confide  her  love  and  her 
sorrow  weighed  her  down.  It  was  a  sore  probation, 
and  in  her  trouble  she  turned,  as  it  was  her  nature  to 
turn,  to  the  consolations  of  her  religion.  In  the  Lent 
of  1859  she  went  into  a  Retreat  in  the  Convent  at 
Norwich,  and  strove  to  banish  worldly  thoughts.  She 
did  not  strive  in  vain,  as  the  following  extracts  from 
one  of  her  devotional  books,1  written  when  in  retreat, 
will  show. 

1  Lamtd,  one  of  Lady  Burton's  books  of  private  devotion. 

10 


146      Ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

"  I  bewail  my  ordinary  existence — the  life  that  most 
girls  lead — going  out  into  society  and  belonging  to  the 
world. 

"  I  must  follow  the  ordinary  little  details  of  existence 
with  patient  endurance  of  suffering  and  resistance  of 
evil.  With  courage  I  must  fly  at  what  I  most  dislike 
— grasp  my  nettle.  There  is  good  to  be  cultivated, 
there  is  religion  to  be  uppermost ;  occupation  and 
family  cares  must  be  my  resources. 

"  And  why  must  I  do  this  ?  Other  girls  are  not 
desirous  of  doing  it.  Because  at  a  critical  moment  God 
snatched  me  from  the  world,  when  my  heart  bounded 
nigh  for  great  things,  and  I  was  hard  pressed  by 
temptation.  I  said  to  myself,  *  Why  has  He  called 
such  a  being  as  myself  into  existence  ? ' — seemingly  to 
no  purpose.  And  He  has  brought  me  to  this  quiet 
corner,  and  has  showed  me  in  a  spiritual  retreat  (like 
in  a  holy  lantern)  things  as  they  really  are  ;  He  has 
recalled  to  me  the  holiest  and  purest  of  my  childhood 
and  my  convent  days,  humbled  me,  and  then,  shutting 
out  that  view,  once  more  He  will  send  me  forth  to  act 
from  His  fresh  teaching.  He  seemed  to  say  to  me  : 
'  You  have  but  little  time  ;  a  long  life  is  but  eighty 
years  or  so — part  of  this  is  lost  in  childhood,  part  in  old 
age,  part  in  sleep.  How  few  are  the  strong,  mature 
years  wherein  to  lay  in  store  for  death — the  only 
store  you  can  carry  with  you  beyond  the  dreams  of 
life,  beyond  the  grave  !  You,  from  defects  in  your 
upbringing,  have  allowed  your  heart  to  go  before 
your  head  ;  hence  sharp  twinges  and  bitter  experience. 
These  faults  are  forgiven  you.  Now  enter  on  your 


/IDeet  Haatn  *47 

mature  years  with  a  good  spirit,  and  remember  that  the 
same  excuses  will  not  serve  any  more.' 

"  With  these  reflections  I  saw  myself  as  an  atom  in 
this  vast  creation,  chosen  from  thousands  who  would 
have  served  Him  better,  and  brought  safely  through 
my  nine  months'  imprisonment  to  my  baptism.  On 
what  did  I  open  my  eyes  ?  Not  on  the  circle  of  a 
certain  few,  who  are  so  covered  with  riches,  honour, 
luxuries,  and  pleasures  as  to  have  their  Paradise  here. 
Not  amongst  the  dregs  of  the  unfortunate  people  who  are 
the  very  spawn  of  vice,  who  never  hear  a  good  word 
or  see  a  good  action,  who  do  not  know  that  there  is  a 
God  except  in  a  curse.  No  !  God  gave  me  everything; 
but  He  chose  a  middle  way  for  me,  and  each  blessing 
that  surrounded  me  was  immense  in  itself,  and  many 
were  combined.  Pure  blood  and  good  birth,  health, 
youth,  strength,  beauty,  talent,  natural  goodness — God 
and  Nature  gave  me  all,  and  the  Devil  and  I  spoiled 
the  gift.  Add  to  all  this  a  happy  home  and  good 
family,  education,  society,  religion,  and  the  true  Church 
of  Christ.  He  took  from  me  the  riches  and  the 
worldly  success  that  might  have  damned  me  ;  and 
having  purified  me,  He  sent  me  back  only  a  sufficiency 
for  needs  and  comforts.  He  gave  me  a  noble  incen- 
tive to  good  in  the  immense  power  of  affection  I  have 
within  me,  which  I  may  misuse,  but  not  deprave  or 
lose  ;  this  power  is  as  fresh  as  in  my  childhood,  but 
saddened  by  experience.  He  preserves  me  from  the 
multitude  of  hourly  evils  which  I  cannot  see ;  nay,  more, 
He  seems  to  watch  every  trifle  to  meet  my  needs  and 
wants.  He  scarcely  lets  the  wind  visit  me  too  roughly ; 


148       Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 

He  almost  takes  up  the  instruments  He  gave  me,  and 
works  Himself.  He  seems  to  say,  '  Toil  for  one  short 
day,  and  in  the  evening  come  to  Me  for  your  reward.' 
He  appointed  to  me,  as  to  every  one,  an  angel  to 
protect  me  ;  He  has  shown  me  the  flowery  paths  that 
lead  down — down  to  the  Devil  and  Hell — and  the 
rugged  path  that  leads  upward  to  Himself  and  Heaven. 
Shall  I  refuse  to  climb  over  my  petty  trials  for  this 
short  time,  when  He  is  so  merciful,  when  He  has 
died  for  me  ?  " 

Isabel  came  out  of  her  Retreat  on  Easter  Day,  and 
after  visiting  some  friends  for  a  few  weeks  returned  to 
her  parents'  home  in  London.  Here  she  was  greeted 
with  the  news  that  Speke  had  come  home  alone.  The 
air  was  full  of  Speke,  and  the  rumour  reached  her  ears 
that  Burton  was  staying  on  in  Zanzibar  in  the  hope  of 
being  allowed  to  return  to  Africa.  A  sense  of  despair 
seized  her  ;  and  just  as  she  was  thinking  whether  she 
would  not  return  to  the  Convent  and  become  a  Sister 
of  Charity,  she  received  six  lines  in  a  well-known  hand 
by  post  from  Zanzibar — no  letter.  This  communica- 
tion was  long  past  date,  and  evidently  had  been  slow 
in  coming  : 

tto  Ssabel. 

That  brow  which  rose  before  my  sight, 
As  on  the  palmer's  holy  shrine; 
Those  eyes — my  life  was  in  their  light; 
Those  lips — my  sacramental  wine; 
That  voice  whose  flow  was  wont  to  seem 
The  music  of  an  exile's  dream. 

She  knew  then  it  was  all  right. 


flDeet  again  149 

Two  days  later  she  read  in  the  paper  that  Burton 
would  soon  arrive.  She  writes  in  her  diary: 

"  {May  21. — I  feel  strange,  frightened,  sick,  stupefied, 
dying  to  see  him,  and  yet  inclined  to  run  away,  lest, 
after  all  I  have  suffered  and  longed  for,  I  should  have 
to  bear  more." 

But  she  did  not  run  away.  And  here  we  leave  her 
to  tell  her  own  tale. 

On  May  22  I  chanced  to  call  upon  a  friend.  I  was 
told  she  had  gone  out,  but  would  be  in  to  tea,  and 
was  asked  if  I  would  wait.  I  said,  "  Yes."  In  a  few 
minutes  another  ring  came  to  the  door,  and  another 
visitor  was  also  asked  to  wait.  A  voice  that  thrilled 
me  through  and  through  came  up  the  stairs,  saying,  "  I 
want  Miss  Arundell's  address."  The  door  opened,  I 
turned  round,  and  judge  of  my  feelings  when  I  beheld 
Richard  !  For  an  instant  we  both  stood  dazed.  I  felt 
so  intensely,  that  I  fancied  he  must  hear  my  heart  beat, 
and  see  how  every  nerve  was  overtaxed.  We  rushed 
into  each  other's  arms.  I  cannot  attempt  to  describe 
the  joy  of  that  moment.  He  had  landed  the  day 
before,  and  come  to  London,  and  had  called  here  to 
know  where  I  was  living,  where  to  find  me.  No  one 
will  wonder  when  I  say  that  we  forgot  all  about  my 
hostess  and  her  tea.  We  went  downstairs,  and  Richard 
called  a  cab,  and  he  put  me  in  and  told  the  man  to 
drive  about — anywhere.  He  put  his  arm  round  my 
waist,  and  I  put  my  head  on  his  shoulder.  I  felt  quite 
stunned  ;  I  could  not  speak  or  move,  but  felt  like  a 
person  coming  to  after  a  fainting  fit  or  a  dream ;  it  was 


iso      TTbe  TComance  ot  Isabel  Xafc£  JSurton 

acute  pain,  and  for  the  first  half-hour  I  found  no  relief. 
I  would  have  given  worlds  for  tears,  but  none  came. 
But  it  was  absolute  content,  such  as  I  fancy  people 
must  feel  in  the  first  few  moments  after  the  soul  has 
quitted  the  body.  When  we  were  a  little  recovered,  we 
mutually  drew  each  other's  pictures  from  our  respective 
pockets  at  the  same  moment,  to  show  how  carefully  we 
had  always  kept  them. 

After  that  we  met  constantly,  and  he  called  upon  my 
parents.  I  now  put  our  marriage  seriously  before  them, 
but  without  success  as  regards  my  mother. 

I  shall  never  forget  Richard  as  he  was  then.  He 
had  had  twenty-one  attacks  of  fever — had  been  partially 
paralyzed  and  partially  blind.  He  was  a  mere  skeleton, 
with  brown-yellow  skin  hanging  in  bags,  his  eyes 
protruding,  and  his  lips  drawn  away  from  his  teeth. 
I  used  to  give  him  my  arm  about  the  Botanical  Gardens 
for  fresh  air,  and  sometimes  convey  him  almost  faint- 
ing in  a  cab  to  our  house  or  friends'  houses,  who 
allowed  and  encouraged  our  meeting. 

He  told  me  that  all  the  time  he  had  been  away  the 
greatest  consolation  he  had  received  were  my  fortnightly 
journals,  in  letter-form,  to  him,  accompanied  by  all 
newspaper  scraps,  and  public  and  private  information, 
and  accounts  of  books,  such  as  I  knew  would  interest 
him  ;  so  that  when  he  did  get  a  mail,  which  was  only 
in  a  huge  batch  now  and  then,  he  was  as  well  posted 
up  as  if  he  were  living  in  London. 

Richard  was  looking  so  lank  and  thin.  He  was 
sadly  altered  ;  his  youth,  health,  spirits,  and  beauty 
were  all  gone  for  the  time.  He  fully  justified  his 


/IDeet  Hgain  151 

fevers,  his  paralysis  and  blindness,  and  any  amount  of 
anxiety,  peril,  hardship,  and  privation  in  unhealthy 
latitudes.  Never  did  I  feel  the  strength  of  my  love 
as  then.  He  returned  poorer,  and  dispirited  by 
official  rows  and  every  species  of  annoyance  ;  but  he 
was  still — had  he  been  ever  so  unsuccessful,  and  had 
every  man's  hand  against  him — my  earthly  god  and 
king,  and  I  could  have  knelt  at  his  feet  and  worshipped 
him.  I  used  to  feel  so  proud  of  him  ;  I  used  to  like 
to  sit  and  look  at  him,  and  think,  "  You  are  mine,  and 
there  is  no  man  on  earth  the  least  like  you."1 

Isabel  tells  us  that  she  regretted  bitterly  not  having 
been  able  to  stay  with  and  nurse  the  man  she  loved 
at  this  time.  They  were  both  most  anxious  that  their 
marriage  should  take  place,  so  that  they  might  be 
together.  But  the  great  obstacle  to  their  union  was 
Mrs.  Arundell's  opposition.  Isabel  made  a  long  and 
impassioned  appeal  to  her  mother  ;  but  she  would  not 
relent,  and  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  lovers'  pleadings. 
In  justice  to  Mrs.  Arundell,  it  must  be  admitted  that 
she  had  apparently  good  reasons  for  refusing  her  con- 
sent to  their  marriage.  Burton's  niece  says  that  she 
"  vehemently  objected  to  any  daughter  of  hers  espousing 
a  Protestant."8  But  this  is  one  of  those  half-truths 

1  At  this  point  Lady  Burton's  autobiography  ends — cut  short  by 
her  death.  Henceforward,  when  she  speaks  in  the  first  person,  it 
will  be  from  her  papers  and  letters,  of  which  she  left  a  great 
number.  She  was  sorting  them  when  she  died.  But  I  have  felt 
justified  in  repeating  the  story  of  her  marriage  in  her  own  words, 
as  no  other  pen  could  do  justice  to  it. 

*  Miss  Stisted's  Life  of  Burton. 


152       TTbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

which  conceal  a  whole  fallacy.  Of  course  Mrs. 
Arundell,  who  came  of  an  old  Roman  Catholic  family, 
and  who  was  a  woman  of  strong  religious  convictions, 
would  have  preferred  her  daughter  to  marry  a  man 
of  the  same  faith  as  herself.  But  it  was  not  a  question 
between  Catholicity  and  Protestantism,  but  between 
Christianity  and  no  religion  at  all.  From  all  that  was 
publicly  known  of  Burton  at  this  time,  from  his  writings 
and  his  conversation,  he  was  an  Agnostic ;  and  so  far 
as  the  religious  objection  to  the  marriage  entered,  many 
a  Protestant  Evangelical  mother  would  have  demurred 
quite  as  much  as  Mrs.  Arundell  did.  Religious  pre- 
judices may  be  just  or  unjust,  but  they  are  forces 
which  have  to  be  reckoned  with.  And  the  religious 
objection  was  not  by  any  means  the  only  one.  At 
this  time  there  were  unpleasant  rumours  flying  about 
concerning  Burton,  and  some  echo  of  them  had  reached 
Mrs.  Arundell's  ears.  The  way  in  which  the  Royal 
Geographical  Society  had  passed  him  over  in  favour  of 
Speke  had  naturally  lent  colour  to  these  reports  ;  and 
although  Burton  had  a  few  friends,  he  had  many 
enemies.  He  was  under  a  cloud.  The  Government 
ignored  him ;  the  War  Office  disliked  him ;  his  military 
career  had  so  far  been  a  failure — there  was  no  prospect 
of  promotion ;  the  Indian  army  had  brought  him  under 
the  reduction ;  he  had  not  the  means  to  keep  a  wife 
in  decent  comfort,  nor  were  his  relations  in  a  position 
to  help  him,  either  with  money  or  influence  ;  and 
lastly,  he  was  of  a  wild,  roving  disposition.  All  these 
considerations  combined  to  make  Mrs.  Arundell  hesi- 
tate in  entrusting  her  daughter's  happiness  to  his  hands. 


tffceet  Haain  153 

It  must  be  remembered  that  Isabel  was  the  eldest 
child.  She  was  a  very  handsome  and  fascinating  girl  ; 
she  had  many  wealthy  suitors,  and  might  well  have 
been  expected  to  make  "a  good  match."  From  a 
worldly  point  of  view  she  was  simply  throwing  herself 
away.  From  a  higher  point  of  view  she  was  follow- 
ing her  destiny,  and  marrying  the  man  she  loved  with 
every  fibre  of  her  being.  But  Mrs.  Arundell  could 
hardly  have  been  expected  to  see  things  in  this  light, 
and  in  opposing  Isabel's  marriage  with  Richard  Burton 
she  only  acted  as  ninety-nine  mothers  out  of  every 
hundred  would  have  done.  No  sooner  were  they 
married  than  she  admitted  that  she  had  made  a  mis- 
take, and  did  all  in  her  power  to  atone  for  it ;  but  at 
this  time  she  was  inexorable.1 

Burton,  who  was  very  much  in  love,  was  not  in  the 
habit  of  brooking  opposition,  least  of  all  from  a  woman ; 
and  he  suggested  to  Isabel  that  they  should  take  the 
law  in  their  own  hands,  and  make  a  runaway  match 
of  it.  After  all,  they  had  arrived  at  years  of  dis- 
cretion, and  might  fairly  be  expected  to  know  their 
own  minds.  He  was  past  forty,  and  Isabel  was  nearly 
thirty.  More  than  three  years  had  gone  by  since  he 
declared  his  love  to  her  in  the  Botanical  Gardens  ; 
nearly  ten  years  had  passed  since  she  had  fallen  in 
love  with  him  on  the  Ramparts  of  Boulogne.  Surely 

1  Lady  Burton  also,  during  the  last  years  of  her  life,  admitted 
that  she  had  made  a  mistake  in  judging  her  mother's  opposition 
too  harshly.  She  often  said  to  her  sister,  "  I  am  so  sorry  I  published 
those  hard  things  I  wrote  of  dear  mother  in  my  Life  of  Dick.  It 
was  her  love  for  me  which  made  her  do  it.  I  will  cut  it  out  in  the 
next  edition." 


i54      Ube  Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

they  had  waited  long  enough.  Isabel  was  swayed  by 
his  pleading  ;  more  than  once  she  was  on  the  point 
of  yielding,  but  she  resisted  the  temptation.  Duty 
and  obedience  were  always  watchwords  with  her,  and 
she  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  going  against  her 
mother.  Her  sense  of  duty  warred  with  her  desire. 
So  things  see-sawed  for  nearly  a  year.  And  then  : 

"One  day  in  April,  1860, 1  was  walking  out  with  two 
friends,  and  a  tightening  of  the  heart  came  over  me  that 
I  had  known  before.  I  went  home,  and  said  to  my 
sister,  *  I  am  not  going  to  see  Richard  for  some  time.' 
She  said,  *  Why,  you  will  see  him  to-morrow  ! '  *  No,  I 
shall  not,'  I  said  ;  *  I  don't  know  what  is  the  matter.' 
A  tap  came  at  the  door,  and  a  note  with  the  well- 
known  writing  was  put  into  my  hand.  I  knew  my 
fate,  and  with  a  deep-drawn  breath  I  opened  it.  He 
had  left — could  not  bear  the  pain  of  saying  good-bye  ; 
would  be  absent  for  nine  months,  on  a  journey  to  see 
Salt  Lake  City.  He  would  then  come  back,  and  see 
whether  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  choose  between 
him  or  my  mother,  to  marry  me  if  I  would ;  and  if 
I  had  not  the  courage  to  risk  it,  he  would  go  back 
to  India,  and  thence  to  other  explorations,  and  re- 
turn no  more.  I  was  to  take  nine  months  to  think 
about  it."1 

This  was  the  last  straw  to  Isabel,  and  for  a  time  she 
broke  down  utterly.  For  some  weeks  she  was  ill  in 
bed  and  delirious,  heart-sick  and  hopeless,  worn  out 
with  the  mental  conflict  she  was  going  through.  Then 
she  girded  up  her  strength  for  one  last  struggle,  and 
1  Life  of  Sir  Richard  Burton,  by  Isabel  his  wife,  vol.  i.,  p.  337. 


/iDeet  Hgatn  155 

when  she  arose  from  her  bed  her  purpose  was  clear  and 
strong.  The  first  thing  she  did  showed  that  her  mind 
was  made  up.  On  the  plea  of  change  of  air  she  went 
into  the  country  and  stayed  at  a  farmhouse.  As  she 
had  determined  to  marry  a  poor  man  and  also  to 
accompany  him  in  all  his  travels,  she  set  herself  to  rough 
it  and  to  learn  everything  which  might  fit  her  for  the 
roving  life  she  was  afterwards  to  lead,  so  that  in  the 
desert  or  the  backwoods,  with  servants  or  without  them, 
she  might  be  qualified  for  any  emergency.  In  addition 
to  mastering  all  domestic  duties  at  the  farmhouse, 
heavy  and  light,  she  tried  her  hand  at  outdoor  work 
as  well,  and  learned  how  to  look  after  the  poultry- 
yard  and  cattle,  to  groom  the  horses,  and  to  milk  the 
cows.  Nor  did  her  efforts  end  here.  When  she  came 
back  to  London,  she  asked  a  friend  (Dr.  Bird)  to  teach 
her  to  fence.  He  asked  her  why  she  wanted  to  learn 
fencing.  She  answered,  "  Why  ?  To  defend  Richard, 
when  he  and  I  are  attacked  in  the  wilderness  together." 
Later  on  Burton  himself  taught  her  to  fence,  and  she 
became  an  expert  fencer.  At  this  time  also  she  was 
eager  for  books  of  all  kinds.  She  wanted  a  wider  range 
of  reading,  so  that  she  might,  as  she  phrased  it,  "  be 
able  to  discuss  things  with  Richard."  This  period  of 
waiting  was,  in  effect,  a  period  of  preparation  for  her 
marriage  with  the  man  she  loved,  and  she  pursued  her 
preparations  steadily  and  quietly  without  a  shadow  of 
wavering.  Nevertheless  she  fretted  a  great  deal  during 
this  separation.  A  friend  who  knew  her  at  this  time  has 
told  me  she  often  looked  wretched.  She  spent  much 
time  in  fasting  and  prayer,  and  there  were  days  when 


156      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcg  JBurton 

she  would  eat  nothing  but  vegetable  and  drink  water. 
She  used  to  call  these  her  "  marrow  and  water  days." 

One  day  she  saw  in  the  paper  "  Murder  of  Captain 
Burton."  Her  anguish  was  intense.  Her  mother 
went  with  her  to  the  mail-office  to  make  inquiries 
and  ascertain  the  truth.  A  Captain  Burton  had  been 
murdered  by  his  crew,  but  it  was  not  Isabel's  Captain 
Burton.  She  says,  "  My  life  seemed  to  hang  on  a 
thread  till  he  [the  clerk]  answered,  and  then  my  face 
beamed  so  the  man  was  quite  startled."  Great  joy,  like 
great  grief,  is  selfish.  She  gave  little  thought  of  the  poor 
man  who  was  killed,  the  sense  of  relief  was  so  great. 
Burton — her  Burton — was  at  that  moment  enjoying 
himself  with  the  Mormons  in  Salt  Lake  City,  where  he 
stayed  for  some  months.  When  his  tour  was  completed, 
he  turned  his  face  towards  home  again — and  Isabel. 


CHAPTER  X1 

AT  LAST 

(1860—1861) 

My  beloved  is  mine,  and  I  am  his. 

Set  me  as  a  seal  upon  thine  heart,  as  a  seal  upon  thine  arm : 
For  love  is  strong  as  death. 

The  Song  of  Solomon. 

IT  was  Christmas,  1860,  that  I  went  to  stop  with  my 
relatives,  Sir  Clifford  and  Lady  Constable  (his  first 
wife,  nee  Chichester),  at  Burton  Constable — the  father 
and  mother  of  the  present  baronet.  There  was  a  large 
party  in  the  house,  and  we  were  singing  ;  some  one 
propped  up  the  music  with  the  'Times ,  which  had  just 
arrived,  and  the  first  announcement  that  caught  my 
eye  was  that  "  Captain  R.  F.  Burton  had  arrived  from 
America." 

I  was  unable,  except  by  great  resolution,  to  continue 
what  I  was  doing.  I  soon  retired  to  my  room,  and  sat 
up  all  night,  packing,  and  conjecturing  how  I  should 
get  away — all  my  numerous  plans  tending  to  a  c<  bolt  " 
next  morning — should  I  get  an  affectionate  letter  from 

lThis  chapter  is  a  condensed  account  of  Lady  Burton's  marriage, 
as  related  by  herself  in  her  Life  of  her  husband,  with  some  fresh 
material  added. 

157 


158      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JSurton 

Richard.  I  received  two  ;  one  had  been  opened  and 
read  by  somebody  else,  and  one,  as  it  afterwards  turned 
out,  had  been  burked  at  home  before  forwarding.  It  was 
not  an  easy  matter.  I  was  in  a  large  country  ho-ise  in 
Yorkshire,  with  about  twenty-five  friends  and  relatives, 
amongst  whom  was  one  brother,  and  I  had  heaps  of 
luggage.  We  were  blocked  up  with  snow,  and  nine 
miles  from  the  station,  and  (contra  miglior  noler  voler 
mat  pugna)  I  had  heard  of  his  arrival  only  early  in  the 
evening,  and  twelve  hours  later  I  managed  to  get  a 
telegram,  ordering  me  to  London,  under  the  impression 
that  it  was  of  the  most  vital  importance. 

What  a  triumph  it  is  to  a  woman's  heart,  when  she 
has  patiently  and  courageously  worked  and  prayed  and 
suffered,  and  the  moment  is  realized  that  was  the  goal 
of  her  ambition ! 

As  soon  as  we  met,  and  had  had  our  talk,  he  said  : 
"  I  have  waited  for  five  years.  The  first  three  were 
inevitable,  on  account  of  my  journey  to  Africa,  but  the 
last  two  were  not.  Our  lives  are  being  spoiled  by  the 
unjust  prejudice  of  your  mother,  and  it  is  for  you  to 
consider  whether  you  have  not  already  done  your  duty 
in  sacrificing  two  of  the  best  years  of  your  life  out  of 
respect  to  her.  If  once  you  really  let  me  go,  mind,  I 
shall  never  come  back,  because  I  shall  know  that  you 
have  not  got  the  strength  of  character  which  my  wife 
must  have.  Now  you  must  make  up  your  mind  to 
choose  between  your  mother  and  me.  If  you  choose 
me,  we  marry,  and  I  stay ;  if  not,  I  go  back  to  India, 
and  on  other  explorations,  and  I  return  no  more.  Is 
your  answer  ready  ?  " 


Ht  Xast  159 

I  said,  "  Quite  I  marry  you  this  day  three  weeks, 
let  who  will  say  nay." 

When  we  fixed  the  date  of  our  marriage,  I  wanted 
to  be  married  on  Wednesday,  the  23rd,  because  it  was 
the  Espousals  of  Our  Lady  and  St.  Joseph  ;  but  he 
would  not,  because  Wednesday  the  23rd  and  Friday 
the  1 3th  were  our  unlucky  days  ;  so  we  were  married 
on  the  Vigil,  Tuesday,  January  22. 

We  pictured  to  ourselves  much  domestic  happiness, 
with  youth,  health,  courage,  and  talent  to  win  honour, 
name,  and  position.  We  had  the  same  tastes,  and 
perfect  confidence  in  each  other.  No  one  turns  away 
from  real  happiness  without  some  very  strong  tempta- 
tion or  delusion.  I  went  straight  to  my  father  and 
mother,  and  told  them  what  had  occurred.  My  father 
said,  "  I  consent  with  all  my  heart,  if  your  mother  con- 
sents"; and  mother  said,  "Never/"  I  asked  all  my 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  they  said  they  would  receive 
him  with  delight.  My  mother  offered  me  a  marriage 
with  my  father  and  brothers  present,  my  mother  and 
sisters  not.  I  felt  that  this  was  a  slight  upon  him,  a 
slight  upon  his  family,  and  a  slur  upon  me,  which  I 
did  not  deserve,  and  I  refused  it.  I  went  to  Cardinal 
Wiseman,  and  I  told  him  the  whole  case  as  it  stood, 
and  he  asked  me  if  my  mind  was  absolutely  made  up, 
and  I  said,  "  Absolutely"  Then  he  said,  "  Leave  the 
matter  to  me."  He  requested  Richard  to  call  upon 
him,  and  asked  him  if  he  would  give  him  three 
promises  in  writing — (i)  that  I  should  be  allowed 
the  free  practice  of  my  religion ;  (2)  that  if  we  had 
any  children  they  should  be  brought  up  Catholics ; 


160      tTbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

(3)  that  we  should  be  married  in  the  Catholic  Church  : 
which  three  promises  Richard  readily  signed.  He 
also  amused  the  Cardinal,  as  the  family  afterwards 
learnt,  by  saying  sharply,  "  Practise  her  religion  indeed  ! 
I  should  rather  think  she  shall.  A  man  without 
a  religion  may  be  excused,  but  a  woman  without  a 
religion  is  not  the  woman  for  me."  The  Cardinal 
then  sent  for  me,  promised  me  his  protection,  said  he 
would  himself  procure  a  special  dispensation  from 
Rome,  and  that  he  would  perform  the  ceremony  him- 
self. He  then  saw  my  father,  who  told  him  how  much 
opposed  my  mother  was  to  it  ;  that  she  was  threatened 
with  paralysis  ;  that  we  had  to  consider  her  in  every 
possible  way,  that  she  might  receive  no  shocks,  no 
agitation  ;  but  that  all  the  rest  quite  consented  to  the 
marriage.  A  big  family  council  was  then  held  ;  and  it 
was  agreed  far  better  for  Richard  and  me  and  for  every 
one  to  make  all  proper  arrangements  to  be  married 
and  to  be  attended  by  friends,  and  for  me  to  go  away 
on  a  visit  to  some  friends,  that  they  might  not  come  to 
the  wedding,  nor  participate  in  it,  in  order  not  to  agitate 
my  mother  ;  that  they  would  break  it  to  her  at  a  suit- 
able time ;  and  that  the  secret  of  their  knowing  it 
should  be  kept  up  as  long  as  mother  lived.  "  Mind," 
said  my  father,  "  you  must  never  bring  a  misunder- 
standing between  mother  and  me,  nor  between  her  and 
her  children." 

I  passed  that  three  weeks  preparing  very  solemnly 
and  earnestly  for  my  marriage  day,  but  yet  something 
differently  to  what  many  expectant  brides  do.  I  made  a 
very  solemn  religious  preparation,  receiving  the  Sacra- 


at  Xast  161 

ments.  Gowns,  presents,  and  wedding  pageants  had 
no  part  in  it,  had  no  place. 

The  following  were  my  reflections  l : 

"  The  principal  and  leading  features  of  my  future 
life  are  going  to  be  : 

"  Marriage  with  Richard. 

"  My  parents'  blessing  and  pardon. 

"A  man-child. 

"An  appointment,  money  earned  by  literature  and 
publishing. 

"A  little  society. 

"Doing  a  great  deal  of  good. 

"  Much  travelling. 

"  I  have  always  divided  marriage  into  three  classes — 
Love,  Ambition,  and  Life.  By  Life  I  mean  a  particular 
style  of  life  and  second  self  that  a  peculiar  disposi- 
tion and  strong  character  require  to  make  life  happy, 
and  without  which  possibly  neither  Love  alone  nor 
Ambition  alone  would  satisfy  it.  And  I  love  a 
man  in  whom  I  can  unite  all  three,  Love,  Life, 
and  Ambition,  of  my  own  choice.  Some  understand 
Ambition  as  Title,  Wealth,  Estates  ;  I  understand  it  as 
Fame,  Name,  Power.  I  have  undertaken  a  very  peculiar 
man  ;  I  have  asked  a  difficult  mission  of  God,  and  that 
is  to  give  me  that  man's  body  and  soul.  It  is  a  grand 
mission ;  and  after  ten  years  and  a  half  of  prayer  God 
has  given  it  to  me.  Now  we  must  lead  a  good,  useful, 
active,  noble  life,  and  be  each  other's  salvation  ;  and  if 
we  have  children,  bring  them  up  in  the  fear  of  God. 
The  first  thing  to  be  done  is  to  obtain  my  parents' 

1  From  her  devotional  book  Lamed. 

II 


162       ube  "Romance  ot  Isabel  %aoy  Button 

pardon  and  blessing  for  going  my  own  way ;  the  next, 
to  pray  for  a  child  to  comfort  me  when  he  is  absent  and 
cannot  take  me ;  and,  thirdly,  to  set  to  work  with  a  good 
heart  to  work  for  an  appointment  or  other  means  of 
living.  We  must  do  any  amount  of  study  and  publishing, 
take  society  in  moderation  as  a  treat  ;  we  must  do 
good  according  to  our  means  ;  and  when  successful  we 
will  travel.  My  rules  as  a  wife  are  as  follows : 

•Rules  for  mp  (Butoance  as  a  Mite, 

f '  i .  Let  your  husband  find  in  you  a  companion,  friend, 
and  adviser,  and  confidante,  that  he  may  miss  nothing  at 
home  ;  and  let  him  find  in  the  wife  what  he  and  many 
other  men  fancy  is  only  to  be  found  in  a  mistress,  that 
he  may  seek  nothing  out  of  his  home. 

"2.  Be  a  careful  nurse  when  he  is  ailing,  that  he  may 
never  be  in  low  spirits  about  his  health  without  a  serious 
cause. 

"  3.  Make  his  home  snug.  If  it  be  ever  so  small  and 
poor,  there  can  always  be  a  certain  chic  about  it.  Men 
are  always  ashamed  of  a  poverty-stricken  home,  and 
therefore  prefer  the  club.  Attend  much  to  his  creature 
comforts  ;  allow  smoking  or  anything  else  ;  for  if  you 
do  not,  somebody  else  will.  Make  it  yourself  cheerful 
and  attractive,  and  draw  relations  and  intimates  about 
him,  and  the  style  of  society  (literati]  that  suits  him, 
marking  who  are  real  friends  to  him  and  who  are  not. 

"  4.  Improve  and  educate  yourself  in  every  way,  that 
you  may  enter  into  his  pursuits  and  keep  pace  with 
the  times,  that  he  may  not  weary  of  you. 


Ht  Xast  163 

"  5.  Be  prepared  at  any  moment  to  follow  him  at  an 
hour's  notice  and  rough  it  like  a  man. 

"  6.  Do  not  try  to  hide  your  affection  for  him,  but 
let  him  see  and  feel  it  in  every  action.  Never  refuse 
him  anything  he  asks.  Observe  a  certain  amount  of 
reserve  and  delicacy  before  him.  Keep  up  the  honey- 
moon romance,  whether  at  home  or  in  the  desert.  At 
the  same  time  do  not  make  prudish  bothers,  which  only 
disgust,  and  are  not  true  modesty.  Do  not  make  the 
mistake  of  neglecting  your  personal  appearance,  but  try 
to  look  well  and  dress  well  to  please  his  eye. 

"  7.  Perpetually  work  up  his  interests  with  the  world, 
whether  for  publishing  or  for  appointments.  Let  him 
feel,  when  he  has  to  go  away,  that  he  leaves  a  second 
self  in  charge  of  his  affairs  at  home  ;  so  that  if  sometimes 
he  is  obliged  to  leave  you  behind,  he  may  have  nothing 
of  anxiety  on  his  mind.  Take  an  interest  in  everything 
that  interests  him.  To  be  companionable,  a  woman 
must  learn  what  interests  her  husband  ;  and  if  it  is  only 
planting  turnips,  she  must  try  to  understand  turnips. 

"  8.  Never  confide  your  domestic  affairs  to  your  female 
friends. 

"  9.  Hide  his  faults  from  every  oney  and  back  him 
up  through  every  difficulty  and  trouble  ;  but  with  his 
peculiar  temperament  advocate  peace  whenever  it  is 
consistent  with  his  honour  before  the  world. 

"  10.  Never  permit  any  one  to  speak  disrespectfully  of 
him  before  you  ;  and  if  any  one  does,  no  matter  how 
difficult,  leave  the  room.  Never  permit  any  one  to  tell 
you  anything  about  him,  especially  of  his  conduct  with 
regard  to  other  women.  Never  hurt  his  feelings  by 


1 64       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xab£  Burton 

a  rude  remark  or  jest.  Never  answer  when  he  finds 
fault ;  and  never  reproach  him  when  he  is  in  the  wrong, 
especially  when  he  tells  you  of  it,  nor  take  advantage  of 
it  when  you  are  angry  ;  and  always  keep  his  heart  up 
when  he  has  made  a  failure. 

"11.  Keep  all  disagreements  for  your  own  room, 
and  never  let  others  find  them  out. 

"12.  Never  ask  him  not  to  do  anything — for  instance, 
with  regard  to  visiting  other  women,  or  any  one  you 
particularly  dislike  ;  trust  him,  and  tell  him  everything, 
except  another  person's  secret. 

"  13.  Do  not  bother  him  with  religious  talk,  be 
religious  yourself  and  give  good  example,  take  life 
seriously  and  earnestly,  pray  for  and  procure  prayers 
for  him,  and  do  all  you  can  for  him  without  his 
knowing  it,  and  let  all  your  life  be  something  that  will 
win  mercy  from  God  for  him.  You  might  try  to  say 
a  little  prayer  with  him  every  night  before  laying  down 
to  sleep,  and  gently  draw  him  to  be  good  to  the  poor 
and  more  gentle  and  forbearing  to  others. 

"  14.  Cultivate  your  own  good  health,  spirits,  and 
nerves,  to  counteract  his  naturally  melancholy  turn, 
and  to  enable  you  to  carry  out  your  mission. 

"  15.  Never  open  his  letters,  nor  appear  inquisitive 
about  anything  he  does  not  volunteer  to  tell  you. 

"  1 6.  Never  interfere  between  him  and  his  family  ; 
encourage  their  being  with  him,  and  forward  everything 
he  wishes  to  do  for  them,  and  treat  them  in  every 
respect  (as  far  as  they  will  let  you)  as  if  they  were 
your  own. 

"  17.  Keep  everything  going,  and  let  nothing  ever 


at  Xast  165 

be   at   a   standstill  :    nothing   would   weary   him   like 
stagnation."  l 

Richard  arranged  with  my  own  lawyer  and  my  own 
priest  that  everything  should  be  conducted  in  a  strictly 
legal  and  strictly  religious  way,  and  the  whole  pro- 
gramme of  the  affair  was  prepared.  A  very  solemn 
day  to  me  was  the  eve  of  my  marriage.  The  follow- 
ing day  I  was  supposed  to  be  going  to  pass  a  few 
weeks  with  a  friend  in  the  country. 

At  nine  o'clock  on  Tuesday,  January  22,  1861, 
my  cab  was  at  the  door,  with  my  box  on  it.  I 
had  to  go  and  wish  my  father  and  mother  good-bye 
before  leaving.  I  went  downstairs  with  a  beating 
heart,  after  I  had  knelt  in  my  own  room,  and  said  a 
fervent  prayer  that  they  might  bless  me,  and  if  they 
did  I  would  take  it  as  a  sign.  I  was  so  nervous,  I 
could  scarcely  stand.  When  I  went  in  mother  kissed 
me,  and  said,  "  Good-bye,  child  ;  God  bless  you !  "  I 
went  to  my  father's  bedside,  and  knelt  down  and  said 
good-bye.  "  God  bless  you,  my  darling  !  "  he  said,  and 
put  his  hand  out  of  the  bed  and  laid  it  on  my  head.  I 
was  too  much  overcome  to  speak,  and  one  or  two  tears 
ran  down  my  cheeks,  and  I  remember  as  I  passed  down 
I  kissed  the  door  outside. 

I  then  ran  downstairs,  and  quickly  got  into  my 
cab,  and  drove  to  the  house  of  some  friends  (Dr.  and 

1  She  wrote  in  her  book  Lamid  in  1864:  "All  has  been 
carried  out  by  God's  help,  with  the  only  exception  that  He  saw  it  was 
not  good  to  give  us  children,  for  which  we  are  now  most  grateful 
Whatever  happens  to  us  is  always  for  the  best." 


1 66      ube  TComance  ot  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

Miss  Bird),  where  I  changed  my  clothes — not  wedding 
clothes  (clothes  which  most  brides  of  to-day  would 
probably  laugh  at) — a  fawn-coloured  dress,  a  black-lace 
cloak,  and  a  white  bonnet — and  they  and  I  drove  off 
to  the  Bavarian  Catholic  Church,  Warwick  Street. 
When  assembled,  we  were  altogether  a  party  of  eight. 
The  Registrar  was  there  for  legality,  as  is  customary. 
Richard  was  waiting  on  the  doorstep  for  me,  and  as  we 
went  in  he  took  holy  water,  and  made  a  very  large 
sign  of  the  cross.  The  church  doors  were  wide  open, 
and  full  of  people,  and  many  were  there  who  knew  us. 
As  the  10.30  Mass  was  about  to  begin  we  were  called 
into  the  Sacristy,  and  we  then  found  that  the  Cardinal 
in  the  night  had  been  seized  with  an  acute  attack  of  the 
illness  which  carried  him  off  four  years  later,  and  had 
deputed  Dr.  Hearne,  his  Vicar-General,  to  be  his  proxy. 
After  the  ceremony  was  over  and  the  names  signed, 
we  went  back  to  the  house  of  our  friend  Dr.  Bird  and 
his  sister  Alice,  who  have  always  been  our  best  friends, 
where  we  had  our  wedding  breakfast.  During  the 
time  we  were  breakfasting  Dr.  Bird  began  to  chaff 
Richard  about  the  things  that  were  sometimes  said  of 
him,  and  which  were  not  true.  "Now,  Burton,  tell 
me,  how  do  you  feel  when  you  have  killed  a  man  ?  " 
Dr.  Bird  (being  a  physician)  had  given  himself  away 
without  knowing  it.  Richard  looked  up  quizzically, 
and  drawled  out,  "  Oh,  quite  jolly  !  How  do  you? "  * 

1  Miss  Alice  Bird,  who  knew  Sir  Richard  and  Lady  Burton  for  many 
years,  has  told  me  the  following  details  about  the  wedding.  The 
Birds  were  friends  of  the  Arundell  family,  and  Isabel  came  to  them 
and  told  them  how  matters  stood  with  regard  to  Mrs.  Arundell's 
opposition  and  her  ill-health,  and  asked  if  she  might  be  married 


LADY    BURTON    AT    THE    TIME    OF    HER    MARRIAGE.         [Page   166. 


Ht  Xast  167 

We  then  went  to  Richard's  bachelor  lodgings,  where 
he  had  a  bedroom,  dressing-room,  and  sitting-room  ; 
and  we  had  very  few  pounds  to  bless  ourselves  with, 
but  were  as  happy  as  it  is  given  to  any  mortals  out 
of  heaven  to  be.  The  fact  is,  that  the  only  clan- 
destine thing  about  it — and  that  was  quite  contrary  to 
my  desire — was  that  my  poor  mother,  with  her  health 
and  her  religious  scruples,  was  kept  in  the  dark  ;  but  I 
must  thank  God,  though  paralysis  came  on  two  years 
later,  it  was  not  I  that  caused  it. 

To  say  that  I  was  happy  would  be  to  say  nothing. 
A  peace  came  over  me  that  I  had  never  known.  I  felt 
that  it  was  for  eternity,  an  immortal  repose,  and  I  was 
in  a  bewilderment  of  wonder  at  the  goodness  of  God, 
Who  had  almost  worked  miracles  for  me. 

from  their  house,  and  so,  to  use  her  own  phrase,  "  throw  the  mantle 
of  respectability  over  the  marriage,"  to  prevent  people  saying  that  it 
was  a  runaway  match.  Dr.  Bird  and  his  sister  gladly  consented  ; 
they  accompanied  her  to  the  church,  and  when  the  ceremony  was 
over  the  newly  wedded  couple  returned  to  their  house  in  Welbeck 
Street,  where  they  had  a  simple  luncheon,  which  did  duty  for  the 
wedding  breakfast. 

After  luncheon  was  over  Isabel  and  her  husband  walked  off  down 
Welbeck  Street  to  their  lodging  in  St.  James's,  where  they  settled 
down  without  any  fuss  whatever.  She  had  sent  her  boxes  on  ahead 
in  a  four-wheeler.  That  evening  a  bachelor  friend  of  Burton's 
called  in  at  the  lodging  in  St.  James's,  and  found  Isabel  seated 
there,  in  every  sense  mistress  of  the  situation,  and  Burton  proudly 
introduced  her  as  "  My  wife."  They  did  not  send  the  friend  away, 
but  kept  him  there  to  smoke  and  have  a  chat  with  them. 


BOOK    II 

WEDDED 

(1861—1890) 

"  Ellati  Zaujuhd  ma'ahd  Vtadir  el  Kamar  Vasbiha." 
("  The  woman  who  has  her  husband  with  her  can  turn  the  moon 
with  her  finger.") 


169 


CHAPTER   I 

FERNANDO    PO 
(1861—1863) 

I  praise  thee  while  my  days  go  on ; 

I  love  thee   while  my  days  go  on ; 

Through   dark  and  death,  through   fire  and  frost, 

With  emptied  arms  and   treasure  lost, 

I  thank  thee  while  my  days  go  on. 

ELIZABETH  BARRETT  BROWNING. 

IN  fiction  (though  perhaps  not  now  as  much  as 
formerly)  marriage  is  often  treated  as  the  end  of 
all  things  in  a  woman's  life,  and  the  last  chapter  winds 
up  with  the  "  happy  ever  after,"  like  the  concluding 
scene  of  a  melodrama.  But  in  this  romance  of  Isabel 
Burton,  this  drama  of  real  life,  marriage  was  but  the 
beginning  of  the  second  and  more  important  half  of 
her  life.  It  was  the  blossoming  of  love's  flower,  the 
expanding  of  her  womanhood,  the  fulfilment  of  her 
destiny.  For  such  a  marriage  as  hers  was  a  sacrament 
consecrated  by  love;  it  was  a  knitting  together,  a  oneness, 
a  union  of  body,  soul,  and  spirit,  of  thought,  feeling, 
and  inclination,  such  as  is  not  often  given  to  mortals  to 
enjoy.  But  then  Burton  was  no  ordinary  man,  nor  was 

his  wife  an  ordinary  woman.     She  often  said  he  was 

171 


1 72      ttbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

"  the  only  man  in  the  world  who  could  manage  me," 
and  to  this  it  may  be  added  that  she  was  the  only 
woman  in  the  world  who  would  have  suited  him.  No 
other  woman  could  have  held  him  as  she  did.  The 
very  qualities  which  made  her  different  to  the  ordinary 
run  of  women  were  those  which  made  her  the  ideal 
wife  for  a  man  like  Richard  Burton.  The  eagle  does 
not  mate  with  the  domestic  hen,  and  in  Isabel's  uncon- 
ventional and  adventurous  temperament  Burton  saw 
the  reflex  of  his  own.  Though  holding  different  views 
on  some  things,  they  had  the  same  basic  principles ;  and 
though  their  early  environment  and  education  had  been 
widely  different,  yet  Nature,  the  greatest  force  of  all, 
had  brought  them  together  and  blended  them  into  one. 
It  was  a  union  of  affinities.  Isabel  merged  her  life  in 
her  husband's.  She  sacrificed  everything  to  him  save 
two  things — her  rare  individuality,  and  her  fervent  faith 
in  her  religion.  The  first  she  could  not  an  she  would  ; 
the  second  she  would  not  an  she  could  ;  and  to  his 
honour  be  it  said  he  never  demanded  it  of  her.  But 
in  all  else  she  was  his  absolutely  ;  her  passionate 
ideals,  the  treasure  of  her  love,  her  life's  happiness — all 
were  his  to  cherish  or  to  mar  as  he  might  please.  She 
had  a  high  ideal  of  the  married  state.  "  I  think,"  she 
writes,  "  a  true  woman  who  is  married  to  her  proper 
mate  recognizes  the  fully  performed  mission,  whether 
prosperous  or  not,  and  no  one  can  ever  take  his  place 
for  her  as  an  interpreter  of  that  which  is  between  her 
and  her  Creator,  to  her  the  shadow  of  God's  protection 
here  on  earth."  And  her  conception  of  a  wife's  duty 
was  an  equally  unselfish  one,  for  she  wrote  of  the 


jfernanfco  po  173 

beginning  of  her  married  life  :  "  I  began  to  feel,  what 
I  have  always  felt  since,  that  he  was  a  glorious,  stately 
ship  in  full  sail,  commanding  all  attention  and  admira- 
tion, and  sometimes,  if  the  wind  drops,  she  still  sails 
gallantly,  and  no  one  sees  the  humble  little  steam-tug 
hidden  on  the  other  side,  with  her  strong  heart  and 
faithful  arms  working  forth,  and  glorying  in  her  proud 
and  stately  ship." 

Very  soon  after  her  marriage  Isabel  was  reconciled 
to  her  mother.  It  came  about  in  this  wise.  Mrs. 
Arundell  thought  she  had  gone  away  on  a  visit  to  some 
friends  in  the  country,  and  told  her  friends  so ;  but  a 
week  or  two  after  the  marriage  one  of  Isabel's  aunts, 
Monica  Lady  Gerard,  heard  of  her  going  into  a  lodging 
in  St.  James's,  and  immediately  rushed  off  to  tell  Mrs. 
Arundell  that  Isabel  could  not  be  staying  in  the  country, 
as  was  supposed,  and  she  feared  she  had  eloped  or 
something  of  the  kind.  Mrs.  Arundell,  in  an  agony  of 
fear,  telegraphed  to  her  husband,  who  was  then  stay- 
ing with  some  friends,  and  he  wired  back  to  her,  "  She 
is  married  to  Dick  Burton,  and  thank  God  for  it."  He 
also  wrote,  enclosing  a  letter  Burton  had  written  to  him 
on  the  day  of  the  marriage,  announcing  the  fact,  and 
he  asked  his  wife  to  send  one  of  Isabel's  brothers  (who 
knew  the  Burtons'  address)  to  them  and  be  reconciled. 
Mrs.  Arundell  was  so  much  relieved  that  a  worse  thing 
had  not  befallen  Isabel  that  she  sent  for  the  truant  pair 
at  once.  She  was  not  a  woman  to  do  things  by  halves  ; 
and  recognizing  that  the  inevitable  had  happened,  and 
that  for  weal  or  woe  the  deed  was  done,  she  received 
both  Isabel  and  her  husband  with  the  utmost  kindness, 


174       Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JSurton 

and  expressed  her  regret  that  she  should  have  opposed 
the  marriage.  The  statement  that  she  never  forgave 
Burton  is  incorrect.  On  the  contrary,  she  forgave  him 
at  once,  and  grew  to  like  him  greatly,  always  treating 
him  as  a  son.  She  gave  a  family  party  to  introduce 
Burton  to  his  wife's  relations,  and  there  was  a  general 
reconciliation  all  round. 

For  seven  months  after  their  marriage  Isabel  and  her 
husband  continued  to  live,  off  and  on,  at  their  little 
lodgings  in  St.  James's,  as  happy  as  two  birds  in  a  nest. 
But  the  problem  of  ways  and  means  had  early  to  be 
considered.  Now  that  Burton  had  taken  unto  himself 
a  wife,  it  became  imperatively  necessary  that  he  should 
to  some  extent  forego  his  wandering  habits  and  settle 
down  to  earn  something  to  maintain  her  in  the  position 
in  which  she  had  been  accustomed  to  live.  He  had 
a  small  patrimony  and  his  pay;  in  all  about  ^350  a 
year.  With  the  help  Isabel's  friends  would  have  given, 
this  might  have  sufficed  to  begin  matrimony  in  India. 
In  the  ordinary  course  of  events,  Burton,  like  any  other 
officer  in  the  service,  would  have  returned  to  India,  re- 
joined his  regiment,  and  taken  his  wife  out  with  him. 
The  money  difficulty  alone  would  not  have  stood  in  the 
way.  But  there  were  other  difficulties,  as  Burton  knew 
well ;  the  strong  prejudice  against  him  (an  unjust  one,  I 
believe,  but  none  the  less  real)  made  it  hopeless  for  him 
to  expect  promotion  in  the  Indian  army.  So  he  did 
what  was  undoubtedly  the  best  thing  under  the  circum- 
stances. He  determined  not  to  return  to  India,  and  he 
applied  for  a  post  in  the  Consular  Service,  with  the 
result  that  in  March,  some  three  months  after  his 


jfernanfco  fco  175 

marriage,  he  was  offered  the  post  of  Consul  at  Fernando 
Po,  on  the  west  coast  of  Africa — a  deadly  climate,  and 
£700  a  year.  He  cheerfully  accepted  it,  as  he  was 
only  too  glad  to  get  his  foot  on  the  lowest  rung  of 
the  official  ladder.  He  was  told  to  hold  himself  in 
readiness  to  leave  in  August  ;  and  as  the  climate  of 
Fernando  Po  was  almost  certain  death  to  a  white  woman, 
he  would  not  allow  his  young  wife  to  accompany  him. 
So  the  bliss  of  the  first  months  of  their  wedded  life 
was  overshadowed  by  the  thought  of  approaching 
separation. 

In  accepting  the  offer  of  Fernando  Po,  Burton  wrote 
to  the  Foreign  Office l :  "  My  connexion  with  H.M.'s 
Indian  army  has  now  lasted  upwards  of  nineteen  years, 
and  I  am  unwilling  to  retire  without  pension  or  selling 
out  of  my  corps.  If  therefore  my  name  could  be 
retained  upon  the  list  of  my  regiment — as,  for  instance, 
is  the  case  with  H.M.'s  Consul  at  Zanzibar — I  should 
feel  deeply  indebted."  A  reasonable  request  truly. 
Lord  John  Russell,  who  was  then  Secretary  of  State 
for  Foreign  Affairs,  and  who  had  given  Burton  the 
Consulship,  caused  his  application  to  be  forwarded  to 
the  proper  quarter — the  Bombay  Government.  But 
the  authorities  in  India  refused  to  entertain  Burton's 
application  ;  they  struck  his  name  off  the  Indian  Army 
List ;  and  in  this  way  the  whole  of  his  nineteen  years' 
service  in  India  was  swept  away  without  pay  or  pension. 
If  the  brutal  truth  must  be  told,  they  were  only  too 
glad  to  seize  on  this  excuse  to  get  rid  of  him.  But 
that  does  not  palliate  their  conduct ;  it  was  well  said, 

*  Letter  to  Foreign  Office,  March  27,  1861. 


176       Ube  IRomance  ot  -Jsabel  Xafcg  JSurton 

"  His  enemies  may  be  congratulated  on  their  mingled 
malice  and  meanness." 

With  regard  to  Fernando  Po,  I  cannot  take  the  view 
that  Burton  was  ill-treated  in  not  getting  a  better  post; 
on  the  contrary,  taking  all  the  circumstances  into 
consideration,  he  was  fortunate  in  obtaining  this  one. 
For  what  were  the  facts  ?  He  had  undoubtedly  dis- 
tinguished himself  as  an  explorer,  as  a  linguist,  and  as 
a  writer  ;  but  his  Indian  career  had  been  a  failure. 
He  had  managed  to  give  offence  in  high  quarters,  and 
he  was  viewed  with  disfavour.  On  quitting  one  service 
under  a  cloud,  he  could  not  at  once  expect  to  receive 
a  pick  appointment  in  another.  As  a  Consul  he  was 
yet  an  untried  man.  There  is  little  doubt  that  even 
Fernando  Po  was  given  him  through  the  influence  of 
his  wife.  It  was  the  same  throughout  his  after-career  ; 
his  wife's  unceasing  efforts  on  his  behalf  helped  him 
up  every  step  of  the  official  ladder,  and  shielded  him 
more  than  once  from  the  full  force  of  the  official 
displeasure.  There  is  nothing  like  a  brilliant  and 
beautiful  wife  to  help  a  man  on  ;  and  so  Burton  found 
it.  He  had  done  many  clever  and  marvellous  things 
during  his  life,  but  the  best  day's  work  he  ever  did 
for  himself  was  when  he  married  Isabel  Arundell.  His 
marriage  was  in  fact  his  salvation.  It  steadied  him 
down  and  gave  him  some  one  to  work  for  and  some 
one  to  love,  and  it  did  more  than  anything  else  to  give 
the  lie  to  the  rumours  against  him  which  were  floating 
about.  No  longer  an  Ishmael,  he  entered  an  ancient 
and  honoured  family.  Many  who  would  not  have 
moved  a  finger  to  help  Burton  were  willing  to  do 


jfernan&o  po  177 

anything  in  their  power  for  his  wife  ;  and  as  she  cared 
for  only  one  thing,  her  husband's  interests,  he  secured 
their  influence  in  his  favour. 

When  the  London  season  came  round,  the  Burtons, 
despite  their  limited  means,  went  a  good  deal  into 
society.  The  story  of  their  romantic  marriage  got 
abroad,  and  many  friends  were  ready  to  take  them  by 
the  hand.  The  late  Lord  Houghton  was  especially 
kind.  He  asked  Lord  Palmerston,  who  was  then 
Prime  Minister,  to  give  a  party  in  their  honour  ;  and 
Isabel  was  the  bride  of  the  evening,  and  went  down 
to  dinner  on  the  Prime  Minister's  arm.  Shortly  after 
this  she  was  presented  at  Court,  "on  her  marriage," 
by  Lady  John  Russell. 

There  had  been  some  little  doubt  in  Isabel's  mind 
concerning  her  presentation,  as  the  Queen  made  it  a 
rule  then  (and  may  do  so  now,  for  all  I  know)  that 
she  would  not  receive  at  Court  any  bride  who  had 
made  a  runaway  marriage.  Isabel's  was  hardly  a 
runaway  marriage,  as  she  married  with  her  father's 
knowledge  and  consent.  Still  it  was  not  quite  a  usual 
one,  and  she  was  very  glad  when  her  presentation  at 
Court  removed  any  doubt  in  this  respect,  especially  as 
she  looked  forward  to  living  abroad  in  the  future,  and 
difficulties  might  arise  as  to  her  attending  a  foreign 
court  if  she  were  not  received  at  her  own.  She  wanted 
to  help  her  husband  in  every  way. 

Concerning  her  presentation  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  has 
told  me  the  following  anecdote.  Isabel's  one  thought 
was  how  to  please  her  husband,  and  she  was  always 
yearning  to  win  his  approval.  A  word  of  praise  *r 

12 


TRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcg  3Burton 

him  was  the  sweetest  thing  in  life.  Burton,  however, 
though  proud  and  fond  of  her,  was  of  anything  but  an 
effusive  nature,  and  his  praises  of  any  one  were  few 
and  far  between.  When  she  was  dressed  for  her  first 
Drawing-Room — and  very  handsome  she  looked,  a 
beautiful  woman  beautifully  dressed — she  went  to  show 
herself  to  her  husband.  He  looked  at  her  critically ; 
and  though  he  was  evidently  delighted  with  her  appear- 
ance, said  nothing,  which  was  a  great  disappointment 
to  her.  But  as  she  was  leaving  the  room  she  overheard 
him  say  to  her  mother,  "  La  jeune  femme  n'a  rien  a 
craindre  "  ;  and  she  went  down  to  the  carriage  radiant 
and  happy. 

The  Burtons  were  such  an  unconventional  couple 
that  there  was  a  good  deal  of  curiosity  among  their 
acquaintances  as  to  how  they  would  get  on,  and  all 
sorts  of  conjectures  were  made.  Many  of  Burton's 
bachelor  friends  told  one  another  frankly,  "  It  won't 
last.  She  will  never  be  able  to  hold  him."  Shortly 
after  her  marriage  one  of  her  girl  friends  took  her 
aside  and  asked  her  in  confidence,  "  Well,  Isabel,  how 
does  it  work  ?  Can  you  manage  him  ?  Does  he  ever 
come  home  at  night  ?  "  "  Oh,"  said  Isabel,  "  it  works 
very  well  indeed,  and  he  always  comes  home  with  the 
milk  in  the  morning."  Of  course  this  was  only  in 
joke,  for  Burton  was  a  man  of  most  temperate  life,  and 
after  his  marriage,  at  any  rate,  he  literally  forsook  all 
others  'and  cleaved  only  to  his  wife. 

About  this  time  a  calamity  befell  them  in  Grindlay's 
fire,  in  which  they  lost  everything  they  had  in  the 
world,  except  the  few  personal  belongings  in  their 


po  179 

lodgings.  All  Burton's  manuscripts  were  destroyed. 
He  took  it  philosophically  enough,  and  said,  "Well,  it 
is  a  great  bore  ;  but  I  dare  say  that  the  world  will  be 
none  the  worse  for  some  of  the  manuscripts  having 
been  burnt."  His  wife  notes  this  as  "  a  prophetic 
speech "  ;  and  so  it  was,  when  we  remember  the  fate 
of  The  Scented  Garden  thirty  years  after. 

The  London  season  came  to  an  end  sooner  in  those 
days  than  it  does  now,  and  the  end  of  June  found  the 
Burtons  embarked  on  a  round  of  visits  in  country 
houses.  One  of  the  houses  they  visited  at  the  time  was 
Fryston,  Lord  Houghton's,  and  here  they  met  many 
of  the  most  celebrated  people  of  the  day ;  for  wit  and 
beauty,  rank  and  talent,  met  on  common  ground  around 
the  table  of  him  "  whom  men  call  Lord  Houghton, 
but  the  gods  Monckton  Milnes."  Isabel  always  looked 
back  on  these  first  seven  months  of  her  marriage  as 
the  happiest  of  her  life.  They  were  one  long  honey- 
moon, "a  great  oasis"  ;  and  she  adds,  "Even  if  I  had 
had  no  other,  it  would  have  been  worth  living  for." 
But  alas !  the  evil  day  of  parting  came  all  too  soon. 
In  August  Burton  had  to  sail  for  Fernando  Po — "  the 
Foreign  Office  grave,"  as  it  was  called — and  had  perforce 
to  leave  his  young  wife  behind  him.  She  went  down 
to  Liverpool  with  him  to  see  him  off,  and  the  agony 
of  that  first  parting  is  best  expressed  in  her  own 
words : 

"I  was  to  go  out,  not  now,  but  later,  and  then 
perhaps  not  to  land,  and  to  return  and  ply  up  and 
down  between  Madeira  and  Teneriffe  and  London  ; 
and  I,  knowing  he  had  Africa  at  his  back,  was  in  a 


i8o       Ube  Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

constant  agitation  for  fear  of  his  doing  more  of  these 
explorations  into  unknown  lands.  There  were  about 
eighteen  men  (West  African  merchants),  and  everybody 
took  him  away  from  me,  and  he  had  made  me  promise 
that  if  I  was  allowed  to  go  on  board  and  see  him 
off  I  would  not  cry  and  unman  him.  It  was  blowing 
hard  and  raining.  There  was  one  man  who  was  incon- 
siderate enough  to  accompany  and  stick  to  us  the  whole 
time,  so  that  we  could  not  exchange  a  word.  (How  I 
hated  him !)  I  went  down  below,  and  unpacked  his 
things,  and  settled  his  cabin,  and  saw  to  the  arrange- 
ment of  his  luggage.  My  whole  life  and  soul  were  in 
that  good-bye,  and  I  found  myself  on  board  the  tug, 
which  flew  faster  and  faster  from  the  steamer.  I  saw  a 
white  handkerchief  go  up  to  his  face.  I  then  drove  to 
a  spot  where  I  could  see  the  steamer  till  she  became 
a  dot."  1 

Burton  was  absent  eighteen  months,  working  hard 
at  his  duties  as  Consul  on  the  west  coast  of  Africa. 
During  that  time  Isabel  lived  with  her  parents  at 
14,  Montagu  Place,  W.  It  was  a  hard  thing  to  be 
exiled  from  her  husband  ;  but  she  did  not  waste  her 
time  in  idle  repining.  Burton  left  her  plenty  of  work 
to  do,  and  she  did  it  thoroughly.  In  the  first  place,  she 
fought  hard,  though  unsuccessfully,  against  the  decision 
of  the  Bombay  Government  to  remove  Burton's  name 
from  the  Indian  Army  List.  In  the  next  place,  she 
arranged  for  the  publication  of  his  book  on  the 
Mormons.  Surely  not  a  very  congenial  task  for  a 

1  Life  of  Sir  Richard  Burton,  by  Isabel  his  wife,  voL  L, 
pp.  348,  349. 


jfernanfco  po  181 

young  wife  of  seven  months  with  an  absent  husband,  for 
the  book  was  largely  a  defence  of  polygamy  !  But  what- 
ever Burton  told  her  to  do  she  did.  She  also  executed 
his  divers  commissions  which  came  by  every  mail.  One 
of  them  was  to  go  to  Paris  in  January,  1862,  on  a 
special  mission,  to  present  to  the  Emperor  and  Empress 
of  the  French  some  relics  of  the  great  Napoleon — a 
lock  of  his  hair,  a  sketch  of  a  plaster  cast  taken  after 
his  death — which  had  come  into  the  possession  of  the 
Burton  family,  also  a  complete  set  of  Burton's  works, 
and  to  ask  for  an  audience  of  them.  She  left  her  letter 
and  presents  at  the  Tuileries,  and  her  audience  was  not 
granted.  She  blamed  herself  bitterly  at  the  time,  and 
put  the  failure  of  her  mission  of  courtesy  down  to 
"  want  of  experience  and  proper  friends  and  protection." 
But  the  truth  of  the  matter  is,  that  she  ought  never  to 
have  been  sent  on  such  an  unnecessary  errand,  for  it 
was  not  one  in  which  she  or  any  one  could  have  been 
expected  to  succeed.  Nevertheless  Burton's  relatives 
made  themselves  very  unpleasant  about  it,  and  worried 
Isabel  most  cruelly  concerning  the  loss  of  their  trifling 
relics.  And  it  may  be  remarked  here  that  Burton's  near 
relatives,  both  his  sister  and  his  niece,  always  disliked 
Isabel,  and  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  girding  against 
her.  One  of  them  has  even  carried  this  rancorous 
hostility  beyond  the  grave.  These  ladies  were  jealous 
of  Isabel — -jealous  of  her  superior  social  position,  of  her 
beauty,  her  fascinations,  and  above  all  jealous  of  her 
influence  over  her  husband.  Why  this  should  have 
been  so  it  is  impossible  to  say,  for  Burton  did  not  get 
on  very  well  with  his  relatives,  and  made  a  point  of 


i8a      TTbe  "Romance  of  Ssabel  %aog  Burton 

seeing  as  little  of  them  as  possible.  Perhaps  they 
thought  it  was  Isabel  who  kept  him  away  ;  but  it  was 
not.  Fortunately  it  is  not  necessary  to  enter  into  the 
details  of  a  sordid  family  squabble.  To  do  so  would 
be  to  weary,  and  not  to  edify. 

Following  the  annoyance  to  which  she  was  subjected 
by  her  husband's  relatives  came  another  of  a  different 
nature.  There  were  many  who  heard,  and  some  who 
repeated,  rumours  against  Burton  which  had  been 
circulated  by  Speke  and  others.  One  candid  friend 
made  it  his  business  to  retail  some  of  these  to  Isabel 
(one  to  the  effect  that  her  husband  was  "  keeping  a 
seraglio "  out  at  Fernando  Po),  and  gave  her  a  good 
deal  of  gratuitous  and  sympathetic  advice  as  to  how 
she  ought  to  act.  But  Isabel  refused  to  listen  to  any- 
thing against  her  husband,  and  spurned  the  sympathy 
and  advice,  declaring  that  "any  one  who  could  listen 
to  such  lying  tales  was  no  friend  of  hers,"  and  she 
closed  the  acquaintance  forthwith. 

Despite  her  brave  words  there  is  no  doubt  that 
she  fretted  a  good  deal  through  the  months  that  fol- 
lowed. Her  depression  was  further  aggravated  by  a 
sharp  attack  of  diphtheria.  One  day  in  October,  when 
she  could  bear  the  loneliness  and  separation  from  her 
husband  no  longer,  she  went  down  to  the  Foreign 
Office,  and  cried  her  heart  out  to  Sir  Henry  (then 
Mr.)  Layard.  Her  distress  touched  the  official's 
heart,  for  he  asked  her  to  wait  while  he  went  upstairs. 
Presently  Mr.  Layard  came  back,  saying  he  had  got 
four  months'  leave  for  Burton,  and  had  ordered  the 
dispatch  to  be  sent  off  that  very  afternoon.  She  says, 


tfernan&o  po  183 

'*  I  could  have  thrown  my  arms  around  his  neck  and 
kissed  him,  but  I  did  not ;  he  might  have  been 
surprised.  I  had  to  go  and  sit  out  in  the  Green  Park 
till  the  excitement  wore  off;  it  was  more  to  me  than  if 
he  had  given  me  a  large  fortune." 

In  December  Burton  returned  home  after  an 
absence  of  eighteen  months,  and  his  wife  went  to 
Liverpool  to  meet  him.  We  may  imagine  her  joy. 
Christmas  was  spent  at  Wardour  Castle  (Lord 
Arundell's),  a  large  family  gathering  ;  then  they  went 
to  Garswood  to  stay  with  Lord  Gerard  ;  he  was  Isabel's 
uncle,  and  always  her  staunch  friend. 

Burton's  leave  sped  all  too  soon ;  and  when  the 
time  came  for  his  departure,  his  wife  told  him  that  she 
could  not  possibly  go  on  living  as  she  had  been  Jiving. 
"  One's  husband  in  a  place  where  I  am  not  allowed  to 
go,  and  I  living  with  my  mother  like  a  girl.  I  am 
neither  maid,  nor  wife,  nor  widow."  So  he  arranged 
to  take  her  with  him  as  far  as  Teneriffe  at  any  rate. 
As  they  were  to  leave  from  Liverpool,  they  stayed  at 
Garswood,  which  was  hard  by,  until  the  day  came  for 
them  to  sail. 


CHAPTER  II1 

MADEIRA 
(1863) 

The  smallest  bark  on  life's  tumultuous  ocean 
Will  leave  a  track  behind  for  evermore; 

The  slightest  wave  of  influence  set  in  motion 
Extends  and  widens  to  the  eternal  shore. 

I  STARTED  from  Liverpool  on  a  bleak  morning 
in  January  with  many  a  "  God-speed,"  and  in 
possession  of  many  aids  to  enjoyment,  youth,  health, 
strength,  and  the  society  of  a  dearly  loved  husband, 
whose  companionship  is  a  boon  not  often  bestowed 
upon  mortals  in  this  nether  world. 

After  the  inevitable  wettings  from  spray,  and  the  rope 
which  gets  wrong,  and  the  hat  which  blows  over,  and 
the  usual  amount  of  hilarity — as  if  it  were  a  new  thing 
— at  the  dishevelled  head  of  one's  fellow-creature,  we 
set  foot  on  board  the  African  steamship  Spartan  at 
i  p.mv  We  had  still  two  hours  in  the  Mersey,  so 
we  formed  a  little  knot  on  deck,  and  those  who  knew 
Richard  gathered  around  us.  There  was  much  joking 

1  The  chapters  on  Madeira  and  Teneriffe  are  compiled  from 
manuscripts  which  Lady  Burton  wrote  on  her  return  from  Teneriffe 
in  1863,  but  which  her  husband  would  not  allow  her  to  publish. 

184 


fl&afceira  185 

as  to  the  dirty  weather  we  should  meet  outside  (how 
dirty  we  of  the  land  little  guessed),  and  as  to  Admiral 
Fitzroy's  "  biggest  storm  that  was  ever  known,"  as  duly 
announced  in  the  Times,  for  the  3Oth,  which  we  were 
to  meet  in  "  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  O  !  "  There  were 
pleasant  speculations  as  to  how  I  should  enjoy  my 
dinner,  whether  ham  and  eggs  would  become  my 
favourite  nourishment,  and  so  forth.  At  2.30  p.m.  we 
nearly  ran  into  a  large  brig  ;  the  steamer  was  in  the 
pilot's  charge,  but  our  captain  coming  on  deck  saved  us 
with  a  close  shave.  We  should  certainly  have  got  the 
worst  of  it  in  two  seconds  more.  Of  course  it  was  the 
brig's  fault  ;  she  didn't  answer  her  helm  ;  and,  to  use 
the  captain's  phrase,  the  pilot  and  mate  were  a  little 
"  agitated  "  when  his  calm  "  Put  the  helm  down  " 
made  us  only  slightly  graze  each  other  and  glide  off 
again.  We  put  on  full  speed  and  out  to  sea,  as  six 
bells  (three  o'clock)  told  on  my  landlubber  ears.  Before 
four  o'clock  (dining  hour)  I  had  faintly  asked  the 
stewardess  to  help  me  to  shake  myself  down  in  my 
berth,  and  unpack  the  few  articles  I  might  want  during 
the  voyage.  /  did  not  dine. 

Sunday,  2$th,  i  a.m. — It  blew  a  whole  gale,  with 
tremendous  sea  ;  ship  labouring  heavily,  and  shipping 
very  heavy  seas  on  deck  ;  pumps  at  work.  We  were 
making  little  or  no  way  down  Channel,  when  we 
suddenly  shipped  a  heavy  sea,  washing  overboard  a 
quartermaster,  and  sending  our  captain  into  the  lee 
scuppers  with  a  sprained  wrist.  We  stopped,  and 
reversed  engines,  but  could  not  see  the  poor  fellow  ; 
and  to  lower  a  boat  in  such  a  sea  was  impossible. 


1 86      Ube  IRomance  of  Ssabel  Xafcg  3Burton 

He  was   a   married   man,   and   had   left   his   wife   at 
Liverpool. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  horrors  ot  that  night. 
Every  berth  was  full ;  so  much  so  that  our  captain, 
with  a  chivalry  and  forgetfulness  of  self  which  deserves 
recording  in  letters  of  gold,  gave  up  his  own  cabin  to 
Richard  and  myself,  that  we  might  not  be  separated 
an  hour  sooner  than  necessity  compelled  us  to  be,  and 
encountered  the  fatigue  of  his  long  duties  on  deck,  and 
the  discomforts  and  anxieties  of  ten  days'  bad  weather, 
with  no  shelter  but  a  chance  berth  or  the  saloon  sofa. 
During  that  night  one  tremendous  sea  stove  in  the 
doors  of  the  main  cabin,  filling  the  saloon  and  berths 
with  water.  The  lights  were  extinguished ;  things 
came  unshipped  ;  all  the  little  comforts  and  treasures 
were  floating  at  the  top,  leaving  few  dry  garments  out 
of  the  <c  hold,"  which  would  not  be  opened  till  our 
arrival  at  Madeira.  There  arose  on  that  confused 
night  a  Babel  of  sounds  ;  strong  language  from  the 
men-sufferers,  conjuring  the  steward  to  bring  lights, 
and  the  weaker  sex  calling  for  their  protectors,  and 
endeavouring  to  find  them  in  the  dark.  One  young 
and  pretty  little  woman,  almost  a  child,  recently  married, 
in  her  fright  rushed  into  the  saloon  in  her  nightdress, 
calling  for  her  husband.  A  brutal  voice  answered  her 
in  the  chaos  that  she  need  never  hope  to  see  him  again, 
for  he  had  "  fallen  overboard "  and  was  "  clinging  on 
outside."  The  poor  little  creature  (she  was  only 
sixteen)  believed  the  voice,  and,  with  the  energy  of 
despair,  forced  the  door  of  her  husband's  cabin,  and 
there  she  remained  with  him,  and  ere  long  had  an 


ribabeira  187 

epileptic  fit,  and  also  another  during  the  first  ten  days, 
doubtless  accelerated  by  this  act  of  brutality.  I  regret 
to  say  it  was  committed  by  a  naval  officer  who  was 
tipsy.  Another  sonorous  voice  bid  us  "  die  like 
Christians"  ;  but  I  don't  think  that  was  any  sentiment 
of  the  speaker's.  Ever  and  anon  the  dismal  scene  was 
interlarded  with  "  short  and  crisp  "  sentences,  not  com- 
forting, such  as,  "  We  can't  live  long  in  such  a  sea  as 
this  "  ;  "  We're  going  to  the  bad  " ;  "  Won't  the  captain 
put  into  Holyhead  ?  "  "  There  go  the  pumps — we've 
seven  feet  of  water  in  the  hold  "  (when  we  stopped  and 
reversed,  to  try  and  rescue  the  quartermaster)  ;  "  The 
water  has  got  into  our  engines,  and  we  can't  go  on  "  ; 
"  There's  the  carpenter  hammering — the  captain's  cabin 
is  stove  in,"  etc.,  etc.  A  rich  lady  gave  the  stewardess 
£5  to  hold  her  hand  all  night,  so  the  rest  of  us  poorer 
ones  had  to  do  without  that  matron's  ministrations. 

I  crawled  to  my  cabin,  and,  as  I  Jay  there  trembling 
and  sea-sick,  something  tumbled  against  the  door, 
rolled  in,  and  sank  on  the  floor.  It  was  the  tipsy  naval 
officer.  I  could  not  rise,  I  could  not  shut  the  door,  I 
could  not  tug  him  out ;  so  I  lay  there.  When  Richard, 
who  was  lending  a  hand  at  the  pumps,  had  finished  his 
work,  he  crawled  along  the  decks  till  he  got  to  the 
cabin,  where  the  sea  had  swamped  through  the  open 
door  pretty  considerably.  "  Hullo  !  What's  that  ?  "  he 
said.  I  managed  faintly  to  ejaculate,  "  The  tipsy  naval 
officer."  He  picked  him  up  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck, 
and,  regardless  of  consequences,  he  propelled  him  with 
a  good  kick  behind  all  down  the  deck,  and  shut  the 
door.  He  said,  "  The  captain  says  we  can't  live  more 


1 88      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

than  two  hours  in  such  a  sea  as  this."  At  first  I  had 
been  frightened  that  I  should  die,  but  now  I  was  only 
frightened  that  I  shouldn't,  and  I  uttered  feebly,  "  Oh, 
thank  God  it  will  be  over  so  soon  ! "  1  shall  never 
forget  how  angry  he  was  with  me  because  I  was  not 
frightened,  and  gave  me  quite  a  sermon. 

On  Thursday,  the  29th,  we  skirted  the  Bay  of  Biscay, 
and  the  ship  rolled  heavily.  I  was  very  much  impressed 
by  the  grandeur  of  the  gigantic  billows  of  the  Atlantic 
while  skirting  the  Bay,  not  short,  chopping  waves, 
such  as  I  had  seen  in  the  Channel  and  Mediterranean, 
but  more  like  the  undulations  of  a  prairie,  a  high  rising 
ground  surrounding  you  at  a  distance,  and,  while  you 
are  in  its  depression,  shutting  out  all  from  your  view, 
until  the  next  long  roller  makes  you  reverse  the 
position,  and  feel  "  monarch  of  all  you  survey,"  or, 
rather,  liken  yourself  to  a  midge  in  a  walnut  shell — so 
deeply  are  you  impressed  by  the  size  and  force  of  the 
waves,  the  smallness  of  yourself  and  ship,  and  the 
magnitude  of  the  Almighty  power.  About  four  o'clock 
the  sea  grew  more  and  more  inky,  and  it  was  evidently 
brewing  up  for  Admiral  Fitzroy's  storm,  which  soon 
came  and  lasted  us  till  Saturday  ;  and  those  who  had 
ventured  to  raise  their  heads  from  their  sea-sick  pillows 
had  to  lay  them  down  again. 

Saturday,  31  st. — We  had  been  a  week  at  sea,  and 
for  the  first  time  it  began  to  get  fine  and  enjoyable. 
We  were  due  this  day  at  Madeira  ;  but  on  account 
of  the  gales  delaying  us,  it  was  not  possible  that  we 
should  land  before  Monday.  The  next  day,  Sunday, 
was  truly  pleasant.  Our  passengers  were  a  curious 


fl&abeira  189 

mixture.  Out  of  the  seven  ladies  on  board,  two  were 
wives  of  Protestant  missionaries,  excellent  men,  who 
had  done  good  service  of  their  kind  at  Sierra  Leone 
and  Abeokuta,  and  were  returning  with  young  and 
pretty  wives.  The  thirty-two  men  passengers  were  of 
all  kinds — military,  naval,  official,  clergymen,  invalids, 
five  black  people,  and  "  Coast  Lambs,"  as  the  palm-oil 
merchants  are  ironically  termed.  We  formed  a  little 
knot  of  a  picked  half-dozen  at  the  top  of  the  table,  and 
"  feeding  time  "  was  the  principal  event  of  the  day. 

A  laughable  incident  occurred  one  day  on  board  at 
dinner.  There  was  a  very  simple-minded  Quaker,  with 
a  large  hat,  who  had  evidently  been  browsing  on  the 
heather  in  the  north  all  his  life,  and  on  this  occasion  a 
fine  plum-pudding,  swimming  in  lighted  brandy,  was 
put  upon  the  table  at  second  course.  The  poor  Quaker 
had  never  seen  this  dish  before,  and  in  a  great  state  of 
excitement  he  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  my  God  !  the  pudding's 
on  fire  !  "  and  clapped  his  large  hat  over  the  pudding, 
and  put  it  out,  amidst  roars  of  laughter,  which  had  to 
be  explained  to  him  when  his  fright  was  over.  After 
dinner  we  formed  whist  parties.  In  fine  weather 
cushions  and  railway-rugs  covered  the  deck,  and  knots 
of  loungers  gathered  under  gigantic  umbrellas,  reading 
or  talking  or  working,  and  also  in  the  evening  moon- 
light, when  the  missionaries  chanted  hymns.  On 
Sunday  there  was  Protestant  service  in  the  saloon, 
and  those  of  other  faiths  did  their  private  devotions 
on  deck. 

Monday  morning^  February  2.  —  We  dropped  our 
anchor  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  town  of  Funchal. 


190       TTbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 

We  rose  at  six,  had  a  cup  of  coffee,  packed  up  our 
water-proof  bags,  and  went  on  deck  to  get  a  first 
glimpse  of  Madeira.  A  glorious  sight  presented  itself, 
producing  a  magical  effect  upon  the  cold,  wet,  dirty, 
sea-sick  passenger  who  had  emerged  from  his  atrocious 
native  climate  but  ten  days  before.  Picture  to  yourself 
a  deep  blue  sky,  delicately  tinted  at  the  horizon, 
not  a  cloud  to  be  seen,  the  ocean  as  blue  as  the 
Mediterranean.  There  was  a  warm  sun,  and  a  soft  and 
sweet-smelling  breeze  from  the  land,  as  of  aromatic 
herbs.  Arising  out  of  the  bosom  of  the  ocean  in 
splendour,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  but  looking  infinitely 
less  distant,  were  dark  mountain  masses  with  fantastic 
peaks  and  wild,  rugged  sides,  sharply  defined  against  the 
sky  and  streaked  with  snow,  making  them  resemble  the 
fanciful  castles  and  peaks  we  can  imagine  in  the  clouds. 
The  coast  to  the  sea  is  thick  with  brilliant  vegetation; 
dark  soil — basalt  and  red  tufa  are  its  colours — with  the 
variegated  green  of  fir,  chestnut,  dark  pine  forests,  and 
the  gaudy  sugar-cane.  Here  and  there  a  belt  of  firs 
runs  up  a  mountain,  winding  like  a  serpent,  and  is  its 
only  ornament.  Wild  geraniums,  and  other  flowers 
which  only  grow  in  a  hothouse  in  England,  and  badly 
too,  are  in  wild  luxuriance  here.  The  island  appears  to 
be  dotted  everywhere  with  churches,  villas,  and  hamlets 
— little  gardens  and  patches  of  trees  intermingled  with 
them.  There  are  three  immense  ravines,  deep  and 
dark ;  and  these  with  all  the  pleasant  additions  of 
birds,  butterflies,  and  flowers  of  every  sort  and  colour, 
a  picturesque,  good-humoured  peasantry  busy  on  the 
beach,  and  a  little  fleet  of  fishing-boats,  with  their  large 


white  lagoon  sails,  like  big  white  butterflies  on  the 
blue  water.  Most  of  the  capes  are  immense  precipices 
of  rock. 

Nestling  at  the  foot  of  this  mountain  amphitheatre, 
and  washed  by  the  bay,  straggling  lengthways  and  up 
and  down,  is  Funchal,  with  its  brilliant  white  houses  and 
green  facings  glittering  in  the  sun.  You  almost  wonder 
whether  your  last  unpleasant  three  months  in  England 
and  your  ten  days'  voyage  had  been  reality  ;  whether 
you  had  not  been  supping  upon  cold  fish,  and  had  just 
awakened  from  a  clammy  nightmare  to  a  day  such  as 
the  Almighty  meant  our  days  to  be,  such  was  one's 
sense  of  vitality  and  immense  power  of  enjoyment  at 
the  change. 

The  landing  was  great  fun,  the  running  of  the  boats 
upon  the  beach  being  very  difficult  in  a  heavy  surge. 
Richard  and  I  managed  to  land,  however,  without  a 
wetting,  and  went  to  the  hotel. 

When  we  had  unpacked,  eaten,  and  bathed,  and  had 
begun  to  shake  off  the  desagremens  of  our  bad  voyage, 
we  had  time  to  enjoy  a  pleasant,  lazy  day,  lounging 
about,  and  luxuriating  in  our  happy  change  from 
England  and  the  ship.  Later  on  in  the  day  there  was 
a  little  mist  over  the  mountains,  like  the  soft  muslin 
veil  thrown  over  a  beautiful  bride,  shading  her  brilliant 
beauty,  greatly  to  her  advantage,  leaving  a  little  of 
it  to  the  imagination.  I  beg  a  bride's  pardon.  How 
could  there  be  a  bride  without  a  Brussels  lace  veil  ? 
Shall  I  change  the  simile  to  that  of  a  first  communicant, 
and  compare  the  belt  of  white  thin  cloud  below  the 
mountains,  and  that  delicate  mist,  which  throws  such 


192      ttbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JBurton 

enchanting  shadows  on  the  mountain-sides  and  preci- 
pices, to  the  {<  dim  religious  light "  of  the  sunset  hour, 
when  the  lamp  is  replenished  ?  For  the  sun  is  setting, 
and  bathes  the  sea  and  coast  in  a  glorious  light,  deepens 
the  shade  of  the  ravines,  and  shows  off  the  dark,  luxu- 
riant foliage. 

I  can  only  venture  upon  describing  a  few  of  the 
excursions  we  were  able  to  make  during  our  stay 
at  Madeira. 

We  started  one  fine  morning  in  a  boat  with  four 
oars  and  rowed  from  Funchal,  coasting  along  near 
the  cliff  to  Machico,  which  is  twelve  miles.  Our 
men  were  chatty  and  communicative,  and  informed  us 
that  the  devil  came  there  at  night  when  they  were  out 
fishing  (I  suppose  originally  the  ingenious  device  of  a 
smuggler)  ;  and  their  superstition  was  genuine.  We 
had  two  hours  of  rough  walking,  when  we  arrived 
at  Machico,  and  marched  through  the  town  with  a 
hundred  followers,  all  clamouring  for  money.  We 
rejoined  our  boat  at  4  p.m.,  in  the  greatest  clatter  of 
talk  and  laugh  I  ever  heard.  Our  sailors,  elated  by 
two  shillings'-worth  of  bad  wine,  were  very  chatty  and 
vocal.  We  put  up  a  sail,  but  there  was  not  breeze 
enough  to  fill  it.  We  chatted  and  read  alternately; 
watched  the  beautiful  hour  that  struggles  between  day 
and  night — beautiful  to  the  happy,  and  much  to  be 
dreaded  to  the  desolate.  The  setting  sun  bathed  the 
dark  basalt  and  red  tufa  cliffs  in  his  red  and  purple 
glory.  Tke  straggling  white  town  glittered  in  the  clear 
and  brilliant  light,  with  its  dark  green  background. 
The  mountain-edges  were  sharp  against  the  clear,  soft 


193 

sky.  That  indescribable  atmosphere  which  blackens 
the  ravines  and  softens  all  the  other  beauties  came  over 
the  island.  The  evening  star  was  as  large  and  brilliant 
as  the  Koh-i-noor  ;  and  the  full  moon,  rising  gradually 
from  behind  Cape  Garajao,  poured  its  beams  down  the 
mountain,  and  threw  its  track  upon  the  sea.  As  we 
neared  Funchal  the  aromatic  smell  of  the  land  was 
wafted  toward  us,  and  with  it  a  sound  of  the  tinkling 
of  bells  ;  and  a  procession  of  torches  wound  like  a 
serpent  out  of  a  church  on  a  rock  overhanging  the 
sea.  It  was  the  Blessed  Sacrament  being  carried  to  a 
dying  man. 

Our  second  boat  excursion  was  to  Cape  Giram,  a 
cliff  some  two  thousand  feet  high,  with  the  appearance 
of  having  been  originally  a  high  hill,  cut  in  two  by 
some  convulsion  of  Nature.  There  was  a  lovely  water- 
fall, and  its  silvery  foam  absolutely  looked  artificial, 
like  the  cascade  of  a  theatre,  as  it  streamed  incessantly 
down  a  bed  of  long  grass  of  a  very  pretty  green,  which 
it  seemed  to  have  made  for  itself  to  course  down.  I 
had  no  idea  of  the  height;  but  having  suddenly  ex- 
claimed to  Richard,  who  was  my  maitre-d'armes,  "I 
wish  I  had  brought  my  pistols  with  me,  I  should  like 
to  pick  off  those  two  gulls,"  to  my  horror,  our 
boatman  hailed  somebody,  and  a  small  voice  echoed 
back.  The  "gulls"  were  two  Portuguese  peasants 
gathering  herbs  for  their  cow. 

Our  last  expedition,  and  best,  was  to  Pico  Arriere, 
the  second  highest  point  in  the  island.  We  had  wished 
very  much  to  ascend  the  highest,  but  that  involved 
the  six  days'  excursion,  which  we  could  not  do ;  so  we 

'3 


194       Ube  TComance  of  Isabel  Xaog  ^Burton 

resolved  to  try  the.  second,  faute  de  mieux,  which  could 
be  done  without  sleeping  out.  With  the  usual  horses 
and  guides  we  started  from  Funchal,  and  proceeded  to 
ascend. 

After  an  hour  and  a  half  we  come  to  a  little 
eminence,  and  the  rough  work  is  going  to  commence. 
The  air  begins  to  change  wonderfully.  The  horizon 
now  assumes  the  punch- bowl  shape  ;  and  I,  standing 
on  one  side  of  the  imaginary  basin,  but  not  quite  so 
high  as  the  rim,  describe  my  impressions.  Behind  and 
above  us  were  the  peaks,  around  us  the  mountains 
clad  with  forests ;  a  fine,  bold  shore,  with  its  high 
basalt  and  tufa  cliffs  ;  a  long  way  below  us  the  quintas, 
gardens,  farms,  thatched  huts,  little  patches  of  sugar- 
cane of  an  enchanting  green,  fields  looking  very  small, 
dwarf  plains,  watercourses,  cascades,  channels,  and  deep, 
abrupt  ravines  ;  the  beautiful  little  town  at  the  bottom 
of  the  basin,  and  the  roadstead  ;  the  open  sea,  with 
white  sails  glittering  on  the  blue  water,  appears  to  be 
running  up  the  other  side  ;  the  Desertas  seemingly 
hanging  midway  between  heaven  and  earth ;  and 
crowned  by  a  glorious  sky,  warm  sun,  pure  air,  and 
sea-breeze.  I  feel  so  glad,  I  could  shout  Hallelujah 
for  joy.  The  horses  have  breathed  while  I  made  these 
mental  notes,  and  now  we  start  again  on  the  hard  and 
broken  road,  which  seems  interminable.  The  horses 
don't  like  the  cold,  nor  the  men  either.  We  do ! 
(We  have  been  some  time  in  the  snow,  which  descends 
to  the  unusual  depth  of  three  thousand  feet.)  The 
horses  make  a  stand,  and  we  dismount  and  walk  (it 
appeared  an  immense  way)  till  the  road  ceases  and 


fl&a&etra  195 

the  actual  mountain  ascent  begins.  One  guide  wraps 
his  head  up  in  a  red  silk  handkerchief,  and  will  go  no 
farther  ;  the  other  sulks,  and  says  it  is  dangerous — the 
path  is  lost,  and  we  shall  fall  into  drifts  ;  but  finding 
us  resolved,  Sulks  consents  to  go,  and  Red  Cap  stops, 
shivering,  with  the  horses,  which  are  rearing  and 
kicking,  for  the  cold  makes  them  playful. 

So,  pike  in  hand,  Richard  and  I  and  Sulks  begin  the 
ascent,  which  lasts  about  one  hour  and  a  half — through 
two  feet  of  snow,  with  several  falls  on  my  part,  and 
sometimes  crawling  on  hands  and  knees — during  which, 
however,  we  could  see  Sta.  Anna  and  the  sea  at  the  other 
side,  and  many  of  the  mountains  and  gorges.  When 
nearly  at  the  top,  we  saw,  with  horror,  thick  black 
clouds  rolling  up  to  envelop  us,  travelling  fast,  and 
looking  like  a  snowstorm.  At  last,  when  we  were 
5,593  feet  high,  only  300  feet  below  the  summit  of 
the  Pico,  which  is  5,893  feet,  there  came  a  mighty 
wind.  We  threw  ourselves  down  to  prevent  being 
blown  off,  and  then  the  clouds  rolled  in  upon  us,  and 
shut  off  all  view  of  the  Pico  and  our  way,  so  that  it 
was  difficult  to  proceed  without  incurring  danger  of 
accidents.  We  scrambled  to  a  projection  of  rock  (the 
only  thing  we  could  see),  and  sat  on  it ;  and  from  our 
canteen,  which  had  been  slung  to  Sulks,  we  ate  our 
lunch,  and  iced  our  claret ;  and  when  we  had  finished 
we  agreed  to  grope  our  way  slowly  down.  We  managed 
it  (often  in  a  sitting  position),  occasionally  making 
some  false  step  for  want  of  being  able  to  see  ;  we  had 
no  feeling  in  our  hands  and  feet.  We  found  Red 
Cap  eventually,  who  had  moved  down  to  warmer 


196      ^be  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  3Burton 

latitudes,  and  was  sulking  and  shivering,  more  so 
because,  as  he  declined  going,  he  forfeited  his  lunch, 
drink,  and  cigarette.  We  walked  back  until  at  some 
distance  above  the  Mount  church  (feeling  warmer 
and  drier  every  moment  as  we  descended),  where  we 
mounted  and  resumed  those  delightful  baskets.  The 
excursion  occupied  about  seven  and  a  half  hours. 

The  time  came  all  too  soon  for  us  to  leave  Madeira, 
and  on  March  4  we  embarked  for  Santa  Cruz, 
Teneriffe,  whence  alarming  reports  of  yellow  fever 
had  reached  our  ears.  By  the  same  boat  on  which 
we  had  embarked  came  letters  and  papers  from  home. 
My  news  from  home  was  very  sad.  My  dear  mother, 
who,  though  in  weak  health,  had  come  down  to 
Liverpool  to  see  us  off,  and  who  bore  up  bravely 
till  the  last,  had  just  time,  after  wishing  us  good-bye, 
to  get  back  to  Garswood  (Uncle  Gerard's),  when  the 
attack  of  paralysis,  so  long  threatened,  came  upon  her. 
Fortunately  there  was  no  immediate  danger,  but  the 
news  was  a  great  shock  to  me.  I  spent  the  day  apart 
from  the  rest,  who  were  merry  unto  noisiness  ;  and  I 
was  right  glad  when  tea-time  rang  all  hands  below, 
and  I  occupied  a  quiet  corner  on  deck,  where  I  could 
shed  my  tears  unseen,  and  enjoy  my  favourite  twilight 
hour. 

The  sky  was  clear,  with  a  rough  sea,  over  which  the 
white  horses  predominated.  Men-of-war  and  fishing- 
boats  were  at  anchor  around  us.  The  sun  had  just 
set ;  the  evening  star's  pale  light  was  stealing  over  us. 
Presently  the  full  moon  rose  behind  Cape  Garajao. 
I  bade  good-bye  to  Madeira  and  every  object  with 


/IDa&etra  197 

regret,  straining  my  eyes  from  right  to  left,  up  and 
down,  and  all  around,  not  from  any  silly  sentiment, 
but  because  I  always  feel  a  species  of  gratitude  to  a 
place  where  I  have  been  happy.  The  black  and  red 
cliffs,  the  straggling  town,  the  sugar-canes,  gardens, 
forests,  flowers,  the  mountain-peaks  and  ravines — each 
separate,  well-known  object  received  its  adieu. 

I  knew  when  I  saw  Madeira  again  it  would  be  under 
far  less  happy  circumstances.  I  should  be  alone,  on 
my  way  back  to  England,  and  my  beloved  Richard  at 
deadly  Fernando  Po.  This  fading,  fairy  panorama  of 
Madeira,  which  had  once  made  me  so  happy,  now 
saddened  me  ;  and  the  last  track  of  moonlight,  as  it 
poured  its  beams  down  the  mountains  on  the  water, 
saw  some  useless  tears. 


CHAPTER  III 

TENERIFFE 

(1863) 

I  went  up  into  the  infinite  solitudes.  I  saw  the  sunrise  gleaming  on  the 
mountain-peaks.  I  felt  myself  nearer  the  stars — I  seemed  almost  to  be  in 
sympathy  and  communion  with  them. 

IBSEN. 

r  I  ^HE  first  sight  of  Santa  Cruz  (where  we  arrived 
X  next  morning)  is  disappointing.  When  you  see 
it  from  the  deck  of  your  ship,  looking  from  right  to 
left,  you  see  a  red,  brown,  and  yellow  coast,  barren  grey 
mountains,  and  ravines.  The  mountains,  being  exposed 
to  much  wind,  present  the  most  curious,  harsh,  and 
fantastic  outline  against  the  sky.  These  are  called 
Passo  Alto  (a  child  would  guess  their  volcanic  origin); 
they  are  wide  irregular  masses  of  rock,  as  desolate  and 
savage  as  can  be  imagined.  Close  to  the  water  is  a 
flat,  whitewashed  town,  which  always  looks  in  a  white 
heat.  The  only  two  high  buildings  are  churches. 
The  town  bristled  with  cannon  near  the  sea.  The 
mountains,  which  are  close  to  the  town  on  the  right, 
and  shut  it  off,  were  covered  with  round,  bushy,  and 
compact  green  splotches,  which  were  in  reality  good- 
sized  fig  trees.  Behind  the  town  is  a  steep  rising 

198 


ZTenertffe  199 

mountain,  with  a  good  winding  road ;  to  the  left  of  it 
is  a  regiment  of  windmills  drawn  up  in  line,  as  if  wait- 
ing for  Don  Quixote  ;  and  in  the  distance,  still  on 
the  left,  and  extending  away  from  you,  are  masses  of 
mountains,  and  hanging  over  them  is  a  little  haze  in 
the  sky,  which  might  be  a  little  woolly  cloud,  sugar- 
loaf  in  shape,  which  you  are  told  is  the  Peak  of 
Teneriffe.  The  sky,  the  sea,  the  atmosphere  are  perfect, 
and  far  surpassing  Madeira.  Most  exhilarating  is  the 
sensation  thereof.  The  island,  saving  one  pass,  is 
covered  with  small  barren  hills,  some  of  them  conical, 
some  like  Primrose  Hill,  only  much  bigger,  which  are, 
I  am  told,  the  small  disturbances  of  volcanoes. 

These  were  my  first  impressions  as  we  were  rowed  to 
a  little  quay  in  a  little  boat,  and  a  dozen  boys  took 
our  dozen  packages  ;  and  a  small  walk  brought  us  to 
Richardson's  Hotel,  as  it  was,  a  fanny,  old,  broken- 
down  place,  with  a  curious  interior,  an  uncomfortable 
picturesque  remnant  of  Spanish-Moorish  grandeur  and 
style,  better  to  sketch  than  to  sleep  and  feed  in.  There 
was  a  large  patio,  or  courtyard,  and  a  broad  carved  oak 
staircase,  and  tiers  of  large  balconies  to  correspond, 
running  all  round  the  interior  of  the  house,  into  which 
galleries  the  rooms  open.  Green  creepers  covered  the 
roof  and  balcony,  and  hung  over,  falling  into  the  patioj 
giving  it  an  ancient  and  picturesque  look,  like  an  old 
ruin.  Rita,  a  peasant  woman,  came  out  to  wait  upon 
me,  in  a  long  white  mantilla,  topped  by  a  black  felt 
Spanish  wide-awake,  a  comfortable-looking  woman,  but 
neither  young  nor  pretty.  The  food  was  as  poor  and 
ancient  as  the  hotel,  and  the  servants  to  match.  I 


200      ubc  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

could  imagine  the  garlicked  sausages  to  have  been  a 
remnant  left  in  a  mouldy  cupboard  by  some  im- 
poverished hidalgo  of  a  hundred  years  back. 

Richard  wanted  to  pass  a  few  days  here,  but  I 
suggested  that,  as  the  yellow  fever  was  raging,  and 
as  Santa  Cruz  and  all  round  could  be  seen  in  three 
or  four  days,  we  should  do  it  on  return,  and 
meantime  seek  some  purer  abode,  lest  a  yellow-fever 
bed  or  infected  baggage  should  lay  us  low  ;  so  we 
voted  for  Laguna,  or  rather  San  Christoval  de  la 
Laguna,  a  large  town  fifteen  hundred  feet  above  sea- 
level,  and  consequently  above  fever-range  ;  and  we 
ordered  the  hotel  carriage  at  once. 

The  vehicle  was  the  skeleton  of  the  first  vehicle 
that  was  ever  made — perhaps  the  one  Noah  provided  in 
the  Ark  to  drive  his  family  down  Mount  Ararat  when 
it  became  dry — no  springs,  windows,  blinds,  lining,  or 
anything  save  the  actual  wood  ;  three  mules  abreast, 
rope,  reins  and  driver  all  ancient  to  match.  We  found 
a  crowd  of  men  wringing  their  hands  at  the  amount  of 
small  baggage  to  be  packed  away  in  it,  swearing  they 
could  not  and  would  not  try  to  put  it  in.  Always  leave 
these  men  to  themselves.  After  loud  vociferation, 
swearing,  and  quarrelling,  they  packed  it  beautifully, 
and  we  were  stowed  away  on  the  top  of  it,  and  rattled 
out  of  the  town  at  a  good  pace,  up  a  winding  road, 
ascending  the  steep  country  behind  Santa  Cruz  towards 
Laguna.  As  we  rose  higher  we  had  a  splendid  view  of 
the  sea,  and  the  white  flat  town  with  its  two  solitary 
towers  lay  at  our  feet.  The  winding  road  was  propped 
up  with  walls  to  prevent  landslip  ;  the  mountains 


ttenertffe  201 

looked  wild  and  rugged  ;  the  weather  was  perfect.  We 
met  troops  of  pretty  peasants  with  heavy  loads,  and  every 
here  and  there  a  picturesque  chapel  or  hermitage. 

Our  drive  was  pleasant  enough,  and  I  think  at  about 
3  p.m.  we  were  driving  hard  up  and  down  the  old 
Noah's-Ark-town  called  San  Christoval  de  la  Laguna. 
We  drove  to  three  inns.  Number  one  was  not  possible. 
Number  two,  something  like  it ;  where  they  were 
going  to  put  us  into  the  same  room  (perhaps  the  same 
bed — who  knows  ?)  with  a  sick  man  (maybe  a  con- 
valescent yellow-feverist).  We  held  a  parley  and 
consultation.  Was  it  possible  to  go  on  ?  No,  neither 
now  nor  to-morrow ;  for  the  new  road  was  being 
made,  the  old  one  broken  up,  and  the  coach  (which, 
by-the-way,  was  the  name  given  to  a  twin  vehicle  such 
as  ours)  was  not  allowed  to  run  farther  than  Sausal, 
three  miles  off,  from  which  we  had  twelve  miles  more 
to  accomplish  in  order  to  reach  the  valley  and  town 
of  Orotava — the  El  Dorado,  and  deservedly  so,  of 
Teneriffe.  We  did  not  like  to  descend  again  into  the 
heat  and  pestilence  of  Santa  Cruz.  Moreover,  we  had 
made  up  our  minds  (not  knowing  Laguna)  to  pass 
a  week  there,  and  had  ordered  our  muleteers  to  bring 
up  and  deposit  our  baggage  there. 

The  coachman  thought  he  knew  of  another  house 
where  we  might  get  a  room.  So  we  drove  to  the 
"  forlorn  hope,"  which  looked  as  bad  as  the  rest,  and 
were  at  first  refused.  The  patio  was  a  ruin,  full  of  mud 
and  broken  plantains,  the  village  idiot  and  the  pig 
huddled  up  in  one  corner.  In  fact,  the  whole  house 
was  a  ruin,  and  the  inevitable  carved-wood  balcony 


202       Ube  TRomance  of  Ssabel  Xaoy  Burton 

kooked  like  tawdry  finery  on  it.  The  landlady  was 
the  most  fiendish-looking  old  woman  I  have  ever  seen, 
with  sharp,  bad,  black  eyes.  She  exchanged  some  words 
in  a  whisper  with  three  or  four  ruffianly  looking  men, 
and  said  that  she  could  let  us  have  a  room,  but  only 
one.  Richard  went  up  to  inspect  it,  and  while  he  was 
gone,  and  I  was  left  alone,  the  village  idiot  worried 
and  frightened  me.  Our  quarters  consisted  of  a  small 
barnlike  room  with  raftered  ceiling,  a  floor  with  holes 
big  enough  to  slip  your  foot  through  into  the  court- 
yard, whitewashed  walls,  and  a  small  latticed  window 
about  two  feet  square  near  the  ceiling.  It  was  filthy, 
and  contained  two  small  paillasses  full  of  fleas,  two  hard 
kitchen  chairs,  and  a  small  kitchen  table.  For  safety, 
we  had  all  our  baggage  brought  up.  We  asked  for  a 
light,  and  they  gave  us  a  rushlight,  growling  all  the 
time  because  we  did  not  find  the  light  of  a  dim  oil-lamp 
in  the  passage  enough,  and  bread  sufficient  nourishment ; 
but  we  clamoured  for  supper. 

After  three  hours'  preparation,  during  which  we  were 
inspected  by  the  whole  band  of  ruffians  composing  the 
establishment,  and  after  loud,  bewildering  chatter  about 
what  should  become  of  us  on  the  morrow,  we  were 
asked  with  much  pomp  and  ceremony  into  the  kitchen. 
We  could  not  both  go  at  once,  as  there  was  no  key  to 
our  door,  and  the  baggage  was  unsafe.  Richard  was  not 
away  five  minutes,  but  returned  with  an  exclamation  of 
disgust,  threw  himself  on  the  paillasse,  lit  a  cigar,  and 
opened  a  bottle  of  Santa  Cruz  wine  we  had  brought 
with  us.  I  then  started,  and  found  it  necessary  to  hold 
the  light  close  to  the  ground,  in  order  not  to  put  my 


Uenerlffe  203 

feet  through  the  holes,  or  fall  on  the  uneven  boarding 
of  the  gallery.  In  a  dirty  kitchen,  on  a  dirty  cloth,  was 
a  pink  mess  in  a  saucer,  smoking  hot  (which,  if  analysed, 
would  have  proved  to  be  eggs,  beetroot,  garlic,  and 
rancid  oil),  stale  bread,  dirty  rancid  butter,  looking  like 
melted  tallow-grease  ;  and  what  I  thought  was  a  large 
vinegar-cruet,  but  in  reality  a  bottle  of  wine,  completed 
the  repast.  I  tried  to  eat,  but,  though  starved,  soon 
desisted.  When  I  returned  to  my  room,  Pepa,  the 
dirty  handmaiden — who  was  always  gaping  into  the 
streets  for  excitement  (which  was  not  to  be  found  in 
Laguna),  but  who  proved  more  good-tempered  and 
honest  than  her  mistress — followed  me,  and,  looking 
nervously  around,  put  a  large  key  into  my  hand,  and 
told  me  to  lock  my  door  at  night.  I  did  not  need  a 
second  hint,  but  also  piled  up  the  baggage  and  kitchen 
chairs  and  table  against  what  looked  to  me  like  a 
second  suspicious  door,  opening  out  on  leads  and  locked 
outside.  I  then  got  out  our  arms — two  revolvers  and 
three  bowie-knives — loaded  the  former,  and  put  one 
of  each  close  to  our  hands  ready.  Sleep  was  out  of 
the  question  for  me  on  account  of  the  fleas,  which  were 
legion  ;  but  I  experienced  nothing  of  a  more  alarming 
nature. 

We  were  up  betimes,  and  clamouring  to  get  on  to 
Orotava.  They  naturally  wished  to  keep  us,  and  so 
they  invented  every  excuse.  They  all  spoke  loudly 
and  at  once.  "  The  public  coach  was  engaged  by  a 
private  gentleman  for  several  days ;  there  were  no 
horses  or  mules  to  be  had  for  some  time  "  (they  would 
almost  have  told  us  there  was  no  hotel  at  Orotava,  if 


204       Ube  TComance  ot  Ssabel  Xafcg  JSurton 

they  had  dared) ;  "  the  yellow  fever  raged  everywhere 
except  at  Laguna,  which  was  above  its  range."  "  Well, 
then,"  we  said,  "under  all  these  circumstances  we  would 
walk."  Now  they  never  walk  themselves,  and  a  woman 
doing  such  a  thing  was  incredible.  They  said,  "  He  might 
walk  ;  but  what  about  the  Senora  and  the  baggage  ?  " 
Seeing,  finally,  that  we  were  determined,  and  offered 
good  pay,  the  driver  of  the  vehicle  agreed  to  drive  us 
three  miles  farther  on  to  Sausal,  and  to  furnish  us  with 
several  mules  for  our  baggage  ;  but  no  riding  mules, 
never  thinking  that  we  should  accept  such  a  proposition. 
To  their  surprise,  we  closed  with  it  at  once.  They 
tried  a  last  dodge  in  the  shape  of  charging  us  the 
exorbitant  price  of  five  dollars,  or  ^i,  for  our  atrocious 
night's  lodging  and  mess  of  eggs,  and  we  gave  it 
cheerfully.  When  we  went  to  pack  up,  we  discovered 
that,  although  we  had  been  there  but  fifteen  hours,  and 
had  never  left  the  room  at  the  same  time  without 
locking  our  door  and  taking  the  key,  they  had  contrived 
to  steal  our  best  bowie-knife,  but  had  touched  nothing 
else.  It  were  better  to  leave  gold  than  a  knife  in 
the  way  of  a  Spaniard.  We  would  not  even  stay  to 
dispute  this. 

We  finally  started  in  the  "coach,"  in  high  glee, 
through  the  melancholy  streets,  up  a  rising  country, 
grand  and  hilly,  and  over  a  good  road.  Richard  said 
that  it  was  a  most  interesting  mountain-pass,  for  reasons 
which  were  rather  au-dessus  de  ma  portee ;  and  as  I 
have  no  doubt  of  it,  I  will  describe  the  trifles. 

The  chief  travellers  on  this  road  were  muleteers, 
picturesque  men  in  blankets  and  sombreros,  sitting 


TTenetlffe  205 

on  comfortable-looking  and  heavily  laden  pack-saddles, 
walking  or  galloping,  and  singing  in  a  peculiar  Moorish 
roulade,  and  smoking  their  little  paper  cigarillos.  The 
only  difference  that  I  could  see  between  them  and  a 
Spanish  gentleman  was,  that  the  latter's  mule  was  better 
bred  and  went  a  faster  pace,  and  he  had,  in  place 
of  the  blanket,  a  black  cloak,  with  perhaps  a  bit  of 
red  sash  or  binding.  Pretty  peasant  women,  with  a 
sturdy  yet  graceful  walk  and  undulating  figures,  went 
by.  They  wore  white  flannel  mantillas,  topped  by  a 
sombrero,  and  carried  enormous  weights  on  their  heads, 
and  sang  and  chattered,  not  at  all  distressed  by  their 
burthens.  We  passed  all  the  scenes  of  historical  in- 
terest in  our  passage  through  the  island.  Our  coach 
arrived  finally  at  Sausal.  Our  aneroid  marked  nine- 
teen hundred  feet  at  the  highest  part  of  our  drive 
through  the  pass.  Here  we  dismounted,  and  the  coach 
waited  for  an  hour  to  see  what  passengers  it  might 
pick  up. 

We  were  in  a  very  peculiar  position,  quite  by  our- 
selves (without  even  a  servant),  at  a  wayside  house  of 
refuge  on  a  mountain-side,  beyond  which  precincts  no 
vehicle  went  at  this  time,  and  where  it  was  impossible 
to  remain,  and  without  knowing  a  soul  in  the  island. 
Luckily  Richard  spoke  the  language  well.  Still,  we 
did  not  exactly  know  where  we  were  going.  We  had 
an  indistinct  wish  to  go  to  Orotava  ;  but  where  it  was, 
or  how  distant  at  that  moment,  we  knew  not  ;  nor  did 
we  know,  when  we  got  there,  if  we  should  find  any 
accommodation,  and  if  not,  how  we  should  be  able  to  get 
back,  or  whether  we  should  have  to  pass  the  night  out 


206       ZTbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcg  JSurton 

of  doors.     Yet  it  was  the  happiest  moment  of  my  life. 
I  had  been  through  two  mortally  dull  years  (without 
travel),   in  commonplace,  matter-of-fact  Old  England, 
where  one  cant  get  into   a  difficulty.     Independently 
of  this,  our  baggage — some  twenty-five  packages — was 
scattered  all  over  the  place  on  mule-back,  some  coming 
up    from   Santa    Cruz,    some    from    Laguna,    and   the 
smaller  ones  with   us.     They   would  not   know  what 
had  become  of  us.     And  how  were  we  to  rid  ourselves 
of  those  we  had  with  us  ?     We  saw  several  handsome, 
proud,  lazy-looking  fellows,  in  blankets,  sleeping  about, 
outside  the  cottage,  and  asked  them  if,  for  a  couple  of 
dollars,  they  would  carry  these,  and  walk  with  us  to 
show  us  the  way  ?     Not  a  bit  of  it  !     They  did  not 
want  to  earn  two  dollars   (%s.   4^.)   at  such  a   price ! 
They  have  nothing,  and  want  nothing  but  sleep  and 
independence.     At  last  a  party  of  muleteers  came  by. 
Richard  explained  our  difficulties,  and  one  good-natured 
old  fellow  put  our  small  traps  on  the  top  of  his  pack, 
and  we  left  orders  at  the  house  of  refuge  with  the  girl 
that  any  mules  passing  by  laden  with  an  Englishman's 
luggage  were  to  come  on  to  Orotava,  and  then  com- 
menced our  walk.    And  an  uncommonly  pretty,  pleasant 
walk  it  was.     This  path  was  only  fit  for  mules  ;  and 
the  continuation  of  the  good  road  we  could  not  enter 
upon,  on  account  of  the  people  at  work,  and  incessant 
blasting. 

At  the  end  of  four  hours  a  mere  turn  in  the  road 
showed  us  the  tropical  valley  in  all  its  beauty,  and  the 
effect  was  magical  :  the  wealth  of  verdure  and  foliage, 
wild  flowers,  and  carolling  birds  of  pretty  plumage. 


Ueneriffe  207 

A  horseshoe-shaped  range  of  mountains  shuts  out  the 
Vale  of  Orotava  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  enclosing 
it  entirely,  except  where  open  to  the  sea  and  its  cool 
breezes  ;  and  we  gradually  wound  down  under  its 
eastern  range,  sloping  to  the  beach. 

A  boy  guide  met  us,  and  led  us  through  many  a 
winding,  paved  street  of  Orotava,  till  the  trickling  of 
the  mountain  stream  reached  our  ears  ;  and  then,  follow- 
ing its  course,  he  brought  us  to  the  door  of  our  fonda 
gobea,  or  inn,  which,  from  its  outward  appearance, 
charmed  me  inexpressibly.  It  is  an  ancient  relic  of 
Spanish-Moorish  grandeur — the  palace  of  a  defunct 
Marchesa — a  large  building,  of  white  stone,  whitewashed 
over,  built  in  a  square,  the  interior  forming  the  patio, 
or  courtyard.  Verandahed  balconies  run  all  around  it 
inside,  in  tiers  of  dark  carved  wood,  and  outside 
windows,  or  wooden  doors,  empanelled,  and  with  old 
coats  of  arms  above  them.  These  open  on  to  balconies 
of  the  same.  There  is  a  flat  roof,  with  garden  or 
terrace  at  the  top.  The  inside  balconies  form  the 
passage.  All  the  rooms  open  into  the  side  next  the 
house  ;  the  other  looks  into  the  court.  We  were  very 
weary  and  dusty  as  we  entered  the  patio.  The  amo, 
or  master}  made  his  appearance,  and,  much  to  our 
chagrin,  conducted  us  to  a  room  very  much  like  the 
one  we  left  at  Laguna.  I  will  not  say  that  our  spirits 
fell,  for  we  looked  at  each  other  and  burst  out  laughing; 
it  was  evident  that  the  Canaries  contained  no  better 
accommodation  ;  but  people  who  go  in  for  travelling 
laugh  at  the  discomforts  that  make  others  miserable  ; 
so,  with  a  glance  at  an  upper  skylight,  a  foot  square, 


2o8      ftbe  iRomance  of  Isabel  Xa&s  JSurton 

we  agreed  that  it  would  be  a  capital  place  for  work, 
in  the  way  of  reading,  writing,  and  study. 

While  Richard  was  settling  something,  and  drink- 
ing a  cup  of  coffee,  I  asked  the  amo  to  let  me  inspect 
the  house,  and  see  if  I  could  not  find  better  accom- 
modation ;  but  he  assured  me  that  every  nook  and 
cranny  was  occupied.  I  explored  an  open  belvedere 
at  the  top  of  the  house,  a  garret  half  occupied  by  a 
photographer  in  the  daytime,  and  the  courtyard,  and 
was  going  back  in  despair,  when  I  came  upon  a  long, 
lofty,  dusty,  deserted-looking  loft,  with  thirty-two  hard, 
straight-backed  kitchen  chairs  in  it.  I  counted  them 
from  curiosity. 

"What,"  I  asked,  "is  this?" 

"  Oh,"  he  replied,  "  we  call  this  the  sala^  but  no  one 
ever  comes  into  it  ;  so  we  use  it  as  a  lumber-room, 
and  the  workwomen  sit  here." 

"  Will  you  give  me  this  ?  "  I  asked  again. 

"  Willingly,"  he  replied,  looking  nevertheless  as 
surprised  as  if  I  had  asked  to  sleep  in  the  courtyard  ; 
"  and,  moreover,  you  can  run  over  the  house,  and  ask 
Bernardo  [a  peasant  servant]  to  give  you  whatever 
furniture  you  may  choose." 

I  was  not  long  in  thanking  him  and  carrying 
his  offer  into  execution.  Bernardo  and  I  speedily 
fraternized,  and  we  soon  had  the  place  broomed  and 
aired.  It  had  evidently  been  the  ballroom  or 
reception-room  of  the  defunct  Marchesa  in  palmy  days. 
Stone  walls  painted  white,  a  wood  floor  with  chinks  in 
it,  through  which  you  could  see  the  "patio  below,  and 
through  which  "  brave  rats  and  mice  "  fearlessly  came 


Ueneriffe  209 

to  play  ;  a  raftered  wood  ceiling  with  a  deep  carved 
cornice  (through  the  holes  above  the  children  over- 
head subsequently  pelted  us  with  nuts  and  cheese)  ; 
three  chains,  with  faded  blue  ribbons,  suspended  from 
the  lofty  ceiling,  whereon  chandeliers  had  evidently 
hung.  Three  carved-wood  doors  (rusty  on  their 
hinges)  opened  on  to  a  verandah  balcony,  from  which 
we  had  a  splendid  view.  The  hotel  opened  sideways, 
on  the  hillside,  on  to  a  perpendicular  street,  with  a 
mountain  torrent  dashing  down  it  beneath  the  windows. 
To  the  left,  above,  was  the  mountain  range  of  Tigayga  ; 
to  the  right  was  the  town,  or  villa  ;  and  below,  and 
sideways  to  the  right,  was  the  cultivated  valley,  and 
the  sea  stretching  broadly  away,  and,  when  clear,  we 
could  see  the  white  cone — the  immortal  Peak.  One 
double  door,  of  cedar  wood,  opened  on  to  the  balcony 
overhanging  the  patio ;  and  one  more  into  another 
room,  which  I  had  subsequently  to  barricade  against 
an  inquisitive  old  lady,  who  wanted  to  see  if  English 
people  bathed  and  ate  like  Teneriffians. 

Such  was  the  aspect  of  the  loft  after  a  brooming.  I 
then  routed  out  an  old  screen,  and  ran  it  across  the  room, 
dividing  it  into  two,  thereby  enabling  the  amo  to  charge 
me  for  bedroom  and  sitting-room.  In  the  bedroom 
half  I  ran  two  straw  paillasses  together  for  a  bed  ;  two 
little  primitive  washstands,  capable  of  containing  a  pint 
of  water  ;  and  two  tiny  tables  of  like  dimensions  for 
our  toilet.  My  next  difficulty  was  to  rig  up  a  bath  and 
a  stove.  Hunting  about,  I  found  a  large  wine-wash,  as 
tall  as  myself.  I  rolled  it  in,  and  ordered  it  to  be  filled 
every  day  with  sea  water.  The  drawing-room  contained 


ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 


two  large  kitchen  tables  (one  for  Richard's  writing, 
one  to  dine  on),  and  a  smaller  one  for  my  occupations, 
a  horsehair  sofa,  a  pan  of  charcoal,  kettles,  and  pots 
for  hot  water,  tea,  eggs,  and  minor  cooking. 

Presently  mule  after  mule  began  to  arrive  with 
the  baggage  ;  not  a  thing  was  missing.  I  divided  the 
thirty-two  hard-backed  kitchen  chairs  between  the  two 
apartments.  For  want  of  drawers  or  wardrobe  we 
kept  most  things  in  our  trunks,  hanging  dresses,  coats, 
and  dressing-gown  over  the  screen  and  chairs  in  lieu 
of  wardrobe.  Books,  writing,  and  instruments  strewed 
the  whole  place.  I  was  delighted  with  my  handiwork. 
We  had  arrived  at  seven,  and  at  nine  I  went  to  fetch 
my  philosophic  husband,  who  had  meanwhile  got  a 
book,  and  had  quietly  sat  down,  making  up  his  mind 
for  the  worst.  He  was  perfectly  delighted  with  the  fine 
old  den,  for  we  had  good  air,  light,  a  splendid  view, 
lots  of  room,  and  good  water,  both  fresh  and  salt  ;  and 
here  we  intended  to  pass  a  happy  month  —  to  read, 
write,  study,  chat,  walk,  make  excursions,  and  enjoy 
ourselves. 

Saturday^  March  21,  1863.  —  Of  course  we  could 
not  rest  until  we  had  "  done  "  the  Peak.  We  were  in 
our  saddles  at  nine.  Our  little  caravan  consisted  of 
six  persons  and  four  animals  —  Richard  and  myself 
mounted  on  good  horses,  two  mules  laden  with  baggage, 
one  guide,  and  three  arrieros,  or  muleteers.  Our 
distance  varied  (by  different  reports)  between  eighteen 
and  thirty-two  miles,  from  the  Villa  d'Orotava  to  the 
top  of  the  great  Peak  and  back  ;  and  by  the  route 
we  returned  from  choice  —  a  longer,  varied,  and  more 


TTenerlffe  an 

difficult  one — I  dare  say  it  was  nearer  the  latter  mark, 
and  our  time  was  thirty-five  hours. 

We  clattered  up  the  streets,  and  went  out  by  a  pretty 
road,  studded  with  villages,  gardens,  cottages,  barrancos, 
and  geraniums  falling  in  rich  profusion  over  the  walls  into 
the  main  road.  We  turned  abruptly  from  this  road  up 
the  stony  side  of  the  Barranco  de  San  Antonio,  and 
proceeded  through  cultivated  fields,  but  ever  winding  by 
the  barranco,  which  becomes  deeper  and  deeper.  Here 
rushes  a  fierce  mountain  torrent.  The  stone  at  the 
sides  is  scooped  as  smoothly  by  its  impetuous  rush  as 
a  knife  would  carve  a  cake  of  soap,  and  you  hear 
the  rebounding  in  the  gigantic  caverns,  which  present 
all  the  appearance  of  being  excavated  by  an  immense 
body  of  water.  On  the  borders  of  this  mass  of  stone 
and  of  rushing  waters,  startling  caverns,  and  mysterious 
rumblings,  the  edges  were  bound  with  rich  belts  of 
chestnut  trees,  wild  flowers  of  every  sort,  myrtle  and 
rosemary,  looking  as  placid  as  in  a  garden  ;  and  you 
do  not  expect  to  be  awestruck — as  you  are — when 
you  look  into  the  depth  of  the  ravine,  into  which 
you  might  have  taken  a  step  too  far,  deceived  by  the 
treacherous  borders,  if  the  strange  sounds  below  had 
not  induced  you  to  look  down.  We  were  now  about 
two  thousand  five  hundred  feet  above  the  sea. 

We  ascended  a  very  jagged  and  rough  mountain, 
like  a  barranca,  ever  ascending,  and  came  upon  a 
beautiful  slope  of  forest  of  mixed  bay  and  broom. 
The  soil,  however,  is  a  mass  of  loose  stones  as  we  wind 
through  the  forest,  and  again  emerge  on  another  barren, 
jagged,  and  stony  mountain,  like  the  one  before  the 


212       Ube  iRomance  of  Ssabel  QLaos  Burton 


forest.  It  is  now  eleven  o'clock,  and  we  are  four 
thousand  five  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  and  the  men 
ask  for  a  halt.  The  valley  rises  like  a  hanging  garden 
all  the  way  till  you  come  to  the  first  cloud  and  mist, 
after  which  are  no  more  houses  ;  the  mist  rests  upon  the 
woods,  and  ascends  and  descends  for  about  the  space  of 
a  league.  We  had  now  just  got  to  the  clouds.  They 
usually  descend  to  this  distance,  and,  except  on  very 
clear  days,  hang  there  for  several  hours  in  the  day  —  if 
not  all  day  —  shutting  out  the  upper  world  of  mountains 
like  a  curtain,  though  above  and  below  it  all  may  be 
clear.  We  dismounted  in  a  thick,  misty  cloud,  and 
looked  about  us,  leaving  the  men  to  eat,  drink,  and 
breathe  the  animals. 

The  whole  of  our  ascent  appeared  to  me  to  be  like 
ascending  different  mountains,  one  range  higher  than 
another,  so  that  when  you  reached  the  top  of  one  you 
found  yourself  unexpectedly  at  the  foot  of  another  ; 
only  each  varies  as  to  soil  :  stones,  vegetation  ;  stones, 
cinders,  stones. 

At  one  o'clock  we  passed  the  last  vegetation,  six 
thousand  five  hundred  feet,  with  a  shady  clearing  under 
the  retornas^  which  our  men  told  us  was  the  Estancia 
della  Cierra  —  the  first  station.  The  thermometer  in 
shade  was  at  60°.  Here  we  unloaded  the  mules,  and 
tied  them  to  the  bushes,  upon  which  they  fed.  We 
ate,  drank,  the  men  smoked,  and  then  we  reloaded  and 
remounted,  and  soon  emerged  from  the  last  vegetation, 
and  entered  upon  Los  Canadas,  through  a  gap,  by  the 
gate  of  Teora  —  a  natural  portico  of  lava.  Here  we 
ceased  ascending  for  some  time,  the  Canadas  being  a 


Ueneriffe  213 

sandy  plain,  extending  fifteen  miles  in  circumference 
round  the  base  of  the  Peak.  Richard  wished  to  build 
him  a  house  in  this  his  peculiar  element,  wanted  a  good 
gallop,  and  all  sorts  of  things.  The  hot  sun  literally 
rained  fire,  pouring  down  upon  our  heads  and  scorch- 
ing the  earth,  and  blistering  our  faces,  hands,  and  lips, 
as  if  it  spitefully  begrudged  us  our  pleasant  excursion 
and  boisterous  spirits.  There  was  water  nowhere. 

We  rode  along  the  plain  laughing  and  chattering, 
and  presently  began  to  ascend  again  the  same  soil  as  on 
the  plain,  but  steepening  and  more  bleak  and  barren, 
with  not  a  sign  of  life  or  vegetation.  We  came  to  the 
mountain,  and  put  our  poor  beasts  to  the  steep  ascent, 
breasting  the  red  pumice  bed  and  thick  bands  of 
detached  black  blocks  of  lava.  The  soil,  in  fact, 
consists  of  loose  pumice  stones  sprinkled  with  lava  and 
broken  bits  of  obsidian.  Our  animals  sank  knee-deep, 
and  slid  back  several  yards  ;  and  we  struggled  upwards 
after  this  fashion  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  when 
we  came  to  a  little  flat  space  on  the  right,  with  blocks 
of  stone  partially  enclosing  it,  but  open  overhead  and 
to  one  side. 

This  was  the  second  station,  called  the  Estancia  de 
los  Ingleses,  nine  thousand  six  hundred  feet  above  the 
sea ;  temperature  1 6°,  only  accessible  on  the  south- 
eastern side.  Here  we  gladly  dismounted,  after  eight 
hours'  ride. 

The  arrieros  unpacked  and  dismantled  their  beasts, 
let  the  mules  roll,  and  put  all  four  in  shelter  with  thei:- 
nosebags,  and  then  went  in  search  of  fuel.  Richard 
went  off  to  take  observations  ;  and  I  saw  him  with 


2i4      Ube  TComance  of  Isabel  OLaog  Burton 

pleasure  enjoying  the  indescribable  atmospheric  charm 
under  the  rose-pink  blush  of  the  upper  sky.  I  knew 
mine  was  Martha's  share  of  the  business,  and  that 
I  had  better  look  sharp  ;  so  I  unpacked  our  panniers, 
and  made  the  estancia  ready  for  the  night.  In  less 
than  an  hour  our  beds  were  made  comfortable,  and 
composed  of  railway-rugs,  coats,  and  cloaks.  There 
were  two  roaring  fires,  and  tea  and  coffee  ;  and  spread 
about  were  spirits,  wine,  fowls,  bread,  butter,  hard  eggs, 
and  sausages.  We  could  have  spent  a  week  there  very 
comfortably ;  and  we  sat  round  our  camp-fire  warming 
ourselves,  eating,  and  talking  over  the  day.  The  men 
brought  out  hard  eggs,  salt  fish,  and  prepared  gqfia — the 
original  Guanche  food — which  is  corn  roasted  brown, 
then  pounded  fine,  and  put  into  a  kid-skin  bag  with 
water  and  kneaded  about  in  the  hand  into  a  sort  of 
cake.  They  were  immensely  surprised  at  a  sharp 
repeater  which  I  had  in  my  belt,  and  with  which  we 
tried  to  shoot  a  raven ;  but  he  would  not  come  within 
shot,  though  we  tried  hard  to  tempt  him  with  a 
chicken's  leg  stuck  upon  a  stick  at  a  distance. 

We  read  and  wrote  till  seven  o'clock,  and  then  it 
grew  darker  and  colder,  and  I  turned  in,  i.e.  rolled 
myself  round  in  the  rugs  with  my  feet  to  the  camp- 
fire,  and  did  not  sleep,  but  watched.  The  estancia,  or 
station,  was  a  pile  of  wild  rocks  about  twenty  feet  high, 
open  overhead  to  one  side,  with  a  space  in  the  middle 
big  enough  to  camp  in.  At  the  head  and  down  one 
side  of  our  bed  was  a  bank  of  snow  ;  two  mules  were 
tethered  near  our  heads,  but  not  near  enough  to  kick 
and  bite.  The  horses  were  a  little  farther  off.  There 


Uenertffe  *is 

were  two  capital  fires  of  retorna  wood  ;  and  strewed 
all  around  were  rugs,  blankets,  and  wraps  of  all  sorts, 
kettles,  canteens,  bottles,  books,  instruments,  eatables, 
and  kegs.  It  was  dark  at  seven  o'clock.  The  stars 
shone  brilliantly,  but  it  was  only  the  third  night  of  the 
moon,  so  we  were  badly  off  for  that.  But  the  day 
had  been  brilliant,  and  our  only  drawback  had  been 
that  the  curtain  of  clouds  had  shut  out  the  under-world 
from  us  about  one  o'clock  for  good  and  all.  Our  men 
consisted  of  one  guide,  Manuel,  and  three  arrieros. 
They  lay  round  the  fire  in  their  blankets  and  black 
velvet  sombreros  in  careless  attitudes.  (I  did  not 
know  a  blanket  could  look  so  picturesque.)  Their 
dark  hair  and  skins,  white  teeth,  flashing  eyes,  and 
handsome  features,  lit  up  by  the  lurid  glare  of  the  fire, 
and  animated  by  the  conversation  of  Richard,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  spirits  and  tobacco  with  which  he  made 
their  hearts  glad,  made  a  first-rate  bivouac  scene,  a 
brigand-like  group,  for  they  are  a  fine  and  hardy  race. 
They  held  loud  and  long  theological  discussions,  good- 
humouredly  anathematizing  Richard  as  an  infidel,  and 
showed  their  medals  and  crosses.  He  harangued  them, 
and  completely  baffled  them  with  his  Mohammedan 
logic  ;  and  ended  by  opening  his  shirt,  and  showing 
them  a  medal  and  cross  like  their  own — the  one  I  had 
given  him  long  ago.  They  looked  at  each  other,  shook 
their  fists,  laughed,  and  were  beside  themselves  with 
excitement.  I  laughed  and  listened  until  the  Great 
Bear  went  down  behind  the  mountain-side,  and  then 
fell  fast  asleep.  The  men  took  it  in  turns  to  keep  up 
the  fire,  while  they  slept  around  it.  The  only  sound 


216      ^be  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

heard  was  once  or  twice  the  spiteful  scream  of  a  mule 
trying  to  bite  its  neighbour,  or  a  log  of  wood  being 
thrown  on  the  fire ;  and  outside  the  estancia  the  silence 
was  so  profound  as  to  fully  realize  "the  last  man." 
The  pleasant  reminiscences  of  that  night  will  live  in 
my  memory  when  most  other  things  are  forgotten,  or 
trials  and  sorrows  make  me  temporarily  forget  to  be 
grateful  for  past  happiness.  It  was  perfect  repose  and 
full  contentment.  The  tangled  world  below  was  for- 
gotten, and  the  hand  of  him  whom  I  cannot  dispense 
with  through  life  was  near  to  clasp  mine. 

At  half-past  three  o'clock  Manuel  awoke  us.  It 
was  a  pitch-dark  night  save  the  fires.  The  ther- 
mometer at  14°.  We  got  up  and  crowded  on  every 
warm  thing  possible,  made  some  coffee,  using  brandy 
for  milk.  Now  one  of  the  arrieros  was  to  remain 
behind  to  look  after  the  fires,  beasts,  and  estancia 
generally.  I  mounted  my  horse,  and  Richard  one  of 
the  mules.  Our  guide  went  first.  One  arriero  with  a 
pitch-pine  torch,  and  one  arriero  to  return  with  the 
animals,  made  our  party  to  start.  At  half-past  four 
o'clock  we  commenced  upon  what  seemed  the  same 
kind  of  thing  as  the  last  part  of  yesterday's  ride — 
steep,  broken  pumice,  obsidian,  and  lava — only  twenty 
times  more  difficult  and  steep,  with  an  occasional  rock- 
work  or  snowdrift.  We  were  the  first  people  who 
had  ascended  in  winter  since  1797  ;  and  even  the 
guide  did  not  exactly  know  what  might  happen  for  the 
snow.  Manuel  went  therefore  first  with  a  torch  ;  then 
Richard  ;  then  the  second  torch  ;  then  myself  on  my 
poor  Negro  ;  and,  lastly,  a  third  torch.  Our  poor 


Ueneriffe  217 

beasts  sank  knee-deep,  and  slid  tremendously.  Once 
or  twice  my  steed  refused,  and  appeared  to  prefer 
descent  to  ascent,  but  fortunately  changed  his  mind, 
or  an  inevitable  roll  to  the  bottom  and  broken  bones 
would  have  been  the  result.  Richard's  mule  went  into 
a  snowdrift,  but  emerged,  with  much  pluck,  without 
unseating  him.  I  got  a  little  frightened  when  it  got 
to  the  steepest  part,  and  found  myself  obliged  to  cling 
to  the  mane,  for  it  was  too  dark,  even  with  torches,  to 
see  much.  In  three-quarters  of  an  hour  we  came  to  the 
highest  and  third  estancia^  ten  thousand  five  hundred 
feet  above  sea-level,  called  Estancia  de  los  Allemanes. 

Here  we  dismounted,  and  our  third  arriero  went 
down  with  the  animals,  while  we,  pike  in  hand,  began 
the  ascent  of  the  Mai  Pais,  which  is  composed  of 
what  yesterday  I  had  imagined  to  be  walls  of  black 
stone,  radiating  from  the  ridge  below  the  cone  to  the 
yellow  mountain,  but  which  are  really  very  severe  lava 
beds,  about  thirteen  hundred  feet  high,  consisting  of 
immense  blocks  of  lava ;  some  as  big  as  a  cottage, 
and  some  as  small  as  a  football ;  some  loose  and 
rolling,  others  firm,  with  drifts  of  snow  between,  and 
piled  up  almost  perpendicularly  above  you  ;  and  when 
you  have  surmounted  one  ridge,  and  fancy  yourself 
at  the  top,  you  find  there  is  another  still  more  difficult, 
until  you  have  had  so  many  disappointments  that 
you  cease  to  ask.  It  took  me  two  hours,  climbing 
on  my  hands  and  knees,  with  many  rests.  First  I 
threw  away  my  pike,  then  my  outer  coat,  and  gradually 
peeled,  like  the  circus  dancers  do,  who  represent  the 
seasons,  army  and  navy,  etc.,  until  I  absolutely  arrived 


ais       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  %aog  Burton 

at  the  necessary  blouse  and  petticoat.  As  there  were 
no  thieves,  I  dropped  my  things  on  the  way  as  I 
climbed,  and  they  served  as  so  many  landmarks  on 
return.  Every  time  we  stopped  to  breathe  I  was 
obliged  to  fill  my  mouth  with  snow,  and  put  it  on  my 
head  and  forehead — the  sun  had  blistered  me  so,  and 
the  air  was  keen.  At  about  5.30  a.m.  a  truly  soft  light, 
preceding  day,  took  the  place  of  torchlight.  The 
horizon  gradually  became  like  a  rainbow,  with  that 
peculiar  effect  it  always  has  of  being  on  a  level  with 
one,  and  the  world  beneath  curved  like  a  bowl,  which 
is  very  striking  to  a  person  who  is  on  a  great  height 
for  the  first  time.  More  toil,  and  we  pass  the  icedrift 
at  our  right,  and  sight  the  Cone,  which  looks  like 
a  dirty-white  sugar-loaf;  which,  I  was  told,  was  a 
low  comparison  !  Every  ten  minutes  I  was  obliged  to 
rest ;  and  the  guides,  after  each  few  moments'  rest, 
would  urge  me  to  a  toutim — just  a  little  more — to 
which  I  had  manfully  to  make  up  my  mind,  though  I 
felt  very  much  fatigued. 

At  6  a.m.  the  guides  told  us  to  turn  round :  a 
golden  gleam  was  on  the  sea — the  first  of  the  sun  ;  and 
gradually  its  edge  appeared,  and  it  rose  majestically  in 
pure  golden  glory  ;  and  we  were  hanging  between 
heaven  and  earth — in  solitude  and  silence — and  were 
permitted  to  enjoy  this  beautiful  moment.  It  was 
Sunday  morning,  March  22 — Passion  Sunday.1  Out 

[*  On  reading  through  this  manuscript  with  Mr.  Wilkins,  I  am 
struck  with  the  coincidence  that  it  was  on  Passion  Sunday, 
March  22,  1896  (thirty-three  years  later),  that  my  dear  sister, 
Lady  Burton,  died. — E.  FITZGERALD.] 


ttenertffe  «9 

of  the  six  souls  there,  five  of  us  were  Catholics,  unable 
to  hear  Mass.  We  knelt  down,  and  I  said  aloud  a 
Paternoster,  Ave  Maria,  and  Gloria  Patri,  and  offered 
to  our  Lord  the  hearts  of  all  present  with  genuine 
thanksgiving,  and  with  a  silent  prayer  that  the  one  dear 
to  me,  the  only  unbeliever  of  our  small  party,  might 
one  day  receive  the  gift  of  faith. 

We  arose,  and  continued  our  now  almost  painful 
way,  and  at  6.45  reached  the  base  of  the  dirty-white 
sugar-loaf.  Here  we  breathed  ;  and  what  had  seemed 
to  me  to  be  a  ridge  from  below  was  a  small  plain 
space  round  the  base  of  the  Cone.  The  thermometer 
stood  at  120°  in  the  steam,  but  there  was  no  smell  of 
sulphur  till  we  reached  the  top.  Manuel  and  Richard 
start,  pike  in  hand.  My  muleteer  took  off  his  red 
sash,  tied  it  round  my  waist,  and  took  the  other  end 
over  his  shoulder,  and  with  a  pike  in  my  hand  we  did 
the  last  hard  work;  and  it  was  very  hard  after  the 
Mai  Pais.  The  Cone  is  surrounded,  as  I  have  just 
said,  by  a  little  plain  base  of  pumice,  and  its  own  soil 
is  broken,  fine  pumice — out  of  which,  from  all  parts, 
issue  jets  of  smoke,  which  burn  you  and  your  clothes  : 
I  think  I  counted  thirty-five.  We  had  five  hundred 
and  twelve  feet  more  to  accomplish,  and  we  took  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour.  The  top  consists  of  masses  of  rock, 
great  and  small,  covered  with  bright,  glistening,  yellow 
sulphur,  and  frost ;  and  from  which  issue  powerful 
jets  of  smoke  from  the  volcano  within.  Richard  helped 
me  up  to  stand  on  the  corona,  the  top  stone,  at  7.40 
a.m.  It  is  so  narrow  there  is  only  room  for  one  person 
to  stand  there  at  once.  I  stood  there  a  minute  or  two. 


220      Ube  TComance  of  Isabel  Xat>£  JSurton 

I  had  reached  the  Peak.     I  was  now,  at  the  outside 
computation,  twelve  thousand  three  hundred  feet  high. 

The  guides  again  suggested  a  Gloria  Patri,  in 
thanksgiving — Richard  a  cigar.  Both  were  accom- 
plished. The  guides  had  been  a  little  anxious  about 
this  first  winter  attempt.  They  now  told  us  it  had 
been  deemed  impossible  in  Orotava  to  accomplish  it ; 
and  as  for  the  Senora,  they  had  said,  she  could  not 
even  reach  the  second  Estancia  de  los  Ingleses,  and  lo  ! 
there  she  stood  on  the  corona !  From  where  we  stood 
at  this  moment,  it  is  said  that  on  a  clear  day  the  eye 
can  take  in  the  unparalleled  distance  of  eight  hundred 
miles  in  circumference  of  ocean,  grasping  the  whole  of 
Teneriffe  as  from  a  balloon,  and  its  coast,  and  the 
whole  fourteen  Canaries  and  coast  of  Africa.  Un- 
fortunately for  us,  the  banks  of  clouds  below  were 
too  thick  for  us  to  do  more  than  obtain  a  view  of 
the  surrounding  mountain-tops  and  country,  and  see 
the  crater.  The  sea  we  could  only  behold  at  a  great 
distance.  We  spent  forty  minutes  at  the  top,  examin- 
ing the  crater,  and  looking  all  around  us  ;  during  the 
latter  part  of  which  operation,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  I 
fell  fast  asleep  from  sheer  fatigue,  and  was  aroused  by 
Richard  hallooing  to  me  that  my  clothes  were  on  fire, 
which,  alas!  was  too  true.  I  pocketed  specimens  of 
obsidian,  sulphur,  and  pumice.  It  was  piercing  cold, 
with  a  burning  sun  ;  and  we  experienced  a  nasty, 
choking,  sickening  smell  of  sulphur,  which  arose  in 
fetid  puffs  from  the  many-coloured  surface  —  dead 
white,  purple,  dull  red,  green,  and  brilliant  yellow. 
A  sense  of  awe  stole  over  me  as  Richard  almost 


Ueneriffe  221 

poked  his  head  into  the  holes  whence  issued  the  jets 
of  smoke.  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  fearful 
catastrophes  that  had  taken  place — how  eruptions, 
perhaps  from  that  very  hole,  had  desolated  Teneriffe — 
how,  perhaps,  it  was  that  which  had  caused  Hanno  to 
say  that  on  the  coast  of  Africa  it  rained  fire  ;  and  yet 
here  we  were  fearlessly  poking  our  heads  inquisitively 
into  it.  What  if  this  should  be  the  instant  of  another 
great  convulsion? 

I  did  not  experience  any  of  the  sensations  described 
by  most  travellers  on  the  Peak,  such  as  sickness,  pains 
in  the  head  or  inside,  or  faintness  and  difficulty  of 
breathing,  though  the  air  was  rare  in  the  extreme, 
and  although  I  am  of  a  highly  sensitive  and  nervous 
temperament,  and  suffer  all  this  when  obliged  to  lead 
a  sedentary  life  and  deprived  of  open  air  and  hard 
exercise.  I  found  my  brain  clear  and  the  air  and 
height  delightfully  exhilarating,  and  could  have 
travelled  so  for  a  month  with  much  pleasure.  The 
only  inconvenience  that  I  did  experience  was  a  sun 
that  appeared  to  concentrate  itself  upon  me  as  a  focus 
(as,  I  suppose,  it  appeared  to  do  the  same  to  each  of  us), 
and  a  piercing  cold  and  severe  wind  besides,  which  com- 
bined to  heat  and  yet  freeze  my  head  and  face,  until 
the  latter  became  like  a  perfect  mask  of  hard,  red  skin, 
likewise  my  lips  and  inside  of  my  mouth.  My  hands, 
feet,  and  knees  also  were  torn  by  the  rocks,  and  I  was 
a  little  bruised  by  sleeping  on  stones;  but  that  was  all  , 
and  my  only  difficulty  about  breathing  proceeded  from 
the  labour  of  climbing  on  hands  and  feet,  and  had  no 
connexion  with  the  rarity  of  the  atmosphere  ;  and  as 


irbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  Zafcs  3Burton 


we  were,  I  believe,  the  first  winter  travellers  living 
who  had  ascended  at  that  season,  we  had  an  excellent 
opportunity  of  judging.  My  guide  also  told  me  that  I 
was  the  only  senora  who  had  performed  some  feat  or 
other  ;  but  I  could  not  exactly  understand  what. 

At  8.30  we  began  the  descent,  planting  our  pikes 
and  our  heels  in  the  soft  stuff,  sliding  down  ten  or 
twelve  yards  at  a  time,  and  arrived  in  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  at  the  little  plain  base.  Here  we  breathed 
for  a  few  moments,  and  then  started  again  for  the 
descent  of  that  truly  Mai  Pais.  It  was  even  worse 
to  descend.  I  only  wondered  how  we  got  up  in  the 
dark  without  breaking  our  ankles  or  legs  over  those 
colossal  ruins,  called  the  "  Hobberings,"  of  the  Peak. 
Twice  twisting  my  ankle  in  the  loose  masses,  though 
not  badly,  warned  me  that  it  was  better  to  take 
my  time  than  get  a  bad  hurt  ;  and  the  others  were 
most  considerate  to  me,  both  going  and  coming,  begging 
me  not  to  be  ashamed  to  stop  as  often  and  as  long 
as  I  liked.  We  were  therefore  two  hours  coming 
down,  picking  up  the  discarded  garments  on  the 
way,  and  inclining  a  little  to  the  right,  to  see  the 
ice  cave  —  Cueva  de  Zelo  —  which  occupied  twenty 
minutes.  It  is  a  large  cavern  in  the  rock,  hung  with 
huge  icicles,  and  covered  over  with  ice  inside.  We 
now  descended  to  the  place  we  had  mounted  on  horse- 
back in  the  night.  How  the  poor  beast  ever  came 
up  it  is  my  astonishment  ;  and  I  am  sure,  if  it  had 
been  daylight,  I  should  have  been  a  great  deal  more 
frightened  than  I  was.  It  was  a  case  of"  poling  "  down 
on  our  heels  again  ;  and  our  two  guides  hailed  the 


TCenertffe  223 

two  below  with  a  Guanche  whistle,  which  meant  "  Put 
the  kettle  on." 

We  reached  the  next  stage  at  io.il.  I  was  now 
rather  "  done  up,"  so  I  drank  a  bowl  of  strong  green 
tea,  and  performed  a  kind  of  toilet,  etc.,  under  the 
lee  of  a  rock,  taking  off  the  remnants  of  my  gloves, 
boots,  and  stockings,  and  replacing  them  with  others, 
which  I  fortunately  had  taken  the  precaution  to  bring ; 
washed,  brushed,  and  combed  ;  dressed  a  little  more 
tidily  ;  and  glycerined  my  hands,  feet,  and  face.  I  then 
wanted  to  lie  down  and  sleep  ;  but  alas !  there  was  no 
shade  except  in  the  snowdrifts;  so  I  tied  a  wet  towel 
round  my  head,  and  erected  an  umbrella  over  it,  and 
slept  for  half  an  hour,  while  Richard  and  the  men 
breakfasted  and  reloaded.  We  sent  the  animals  down 
the  remainder  of  the  steep  ascent  which  had  taken  up 
our  last  three-quarters  of  an  hour  yesterday — that  is, 
from  the  estancia  where  we  slept  to  the  commencement  of 
the  Canadas — and  we  followed  on  foot,  and  were  down 
in  about  half  an  hour.  This  is  the  bottom  of  the  actual 
mountain  out  of  which  the  Cone  rises.  Once  more 
being  on  almost  level  ground,  we  soon  passed  the  desert, 
fifteen  miles  in  circumference,  surrounding  the  mountain. 
There  were  still  ranges  of  mountains  and  country  to 
descend,  below  it,  to  reach  Orotava.  We  accomplished 
them  all  after  a  hot  but  pleasant  ride,  broken  by  rests, 
and  arrived  safe  home  at  Orotava  at  7  p.m. 

We  spent  a  thoroughly  happy  month  at  Orotava, 
in  the  wilds,  amongst  the  peasantry.  No  trammels  of 
society,  no  world,  no  post,  out  of  civilization,  en  bourgeois, 
and  doing  everything  for  ourselves,  with  the  bare 


224       ftbe  Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 

necessaries  of  life.  All  our  days  were  much  alike,  except 
excursion  days. 

We  rose  at  seven,  cup  of  tea,  and  toilet.  Then 
came  my  domestic  work  (Richard  had  plunged  into 
literature  at  half-past  seven) :  this  consisted  of  what,  I 
suppose,  Shakspeare  meant  by  "  chronicling  small  beer  "  ; 
but  I  had  no  fine  lady's  maid  to  do  it  for  me — she 
would  have  been  sadly  out  of  place — ordering  dinner, 
market,  and  accounts,  needlework,  doing  the  room,  the 
washing,  small  cookery  on  the  pan  of  charcoal,  and 
superintending  the  roughest  of  the  work  as  performed 
by  Bernardo.  Husbands  are  uncomfortable  without 
"  Chronicle,"  though  they  never  see  the  petit  detail  going 
on,  and  like  to  keep  up  the  pleasant  illusion  that  it  is 
done  by  magic.  /  thought  it  very  good  fun,  this  kind 
of  gypsying.  Breakfast  at  ten,  write  till  two  (journals 
and  diaries  kept  up,  etc.),  dinner  at  two  ;  then  walk  or 
ride  or  make  an  excursion  ;  cup  of  tea  on  coming  in, 
literature  till  ten,  with  a  break  of  supper  at  eight,  and  at 
ten  to  bed  :  a  delightfully  healthy  and  wholesome  life, 
both  for  mind  and  body,  but  one  which  I  can't  recom- 
mend to  any  one  who  cannot  rough  it,  or  who  has  no 
serious  occupation,  or  lacks  a  very  agreeable  companion. 

Sometimes,  when  Richard  was  busy  writing,  I  would 
stroll  far  away  into  the  valley  to  enjoy  the  sweet,  balmy 
sea-breeze  and  smell  of  flowers,  and  drink  in  the  soft, 
clear  air,  and  would  get  far  away  from  our  little 
straggling,  up-and-down  town  on  its  perch,  and  cross 
over  barrancas  and  ravines  and  enjoy  myself.  One 
day,  so  occupied,  I  came  upon  a  lovely  quinta  in  a 
garden,  full  of  fruits  and  flowers,  a  perfect  forest  of  tall 


Ueneriffe  225 

rose  trees  and  geranium  bushes,  which  hung  over  the 
garden  hedge  into  the  path.  Two  charming  old  ladies 
caught  me  prigging — Los  Senhoras  T.  They  came 
out  and  asked  me  in,  showed  me  all  over  their  garden, 
gave  me  fruit  and  sweetmeats  and  flowers,  and  kissed 
me.  They  did  not  know  what  five  o'clock  tea  meant, 
but  I  often  wandered  there  about  that  time,  and  found 
a  charming  substitute  in  the  above  articles,  and  I  quite 
struck  up  a  friendship  with  them. 

We  put  off  leaving  our  peaceful  retreat  until  the  last 
possible  day,  when  we  went  down  to  Santa  Cruz. 
When  we  had  been  at  Santa  Cruz  three  or  four  days, 
the  fatal  gun  boomed — the  signal  of  our  separation. 
It  was  midday,  and  there  was  my  detestable  steamer 
at  anchor — the  steamer  by  which  I  was  to  return  to 
England.  I  felt  as  I  did  when  I  was  a  child,  and  the 
cab  stopped  at  the  dentist's  door.  I  may  pass  over  this 
miserable  day  and  our  most  miserable  parting.  Richard 
was  going  again  to  pestilential  Fernando  Po.  I  should 
not  see  him  for  many,  many  weary  months,  and  perhaps 
never  again.  How  gladly  would  I  have  gone  with 
him  ;  even  to  the  eleventh  hour  I  had  hoped  that  he 
would  relent  and  let  me  go.  But  the  climate  was 
death  to  a  white  woman,  and  he  was  inexorable.  He 
would  not  even  let  me  sleep  one  night  at  Fernando  Po. 
So  we  parted,  he  to  his  consulate,  and  I  to  go  back 
home — which  was  no  home  without  him.  I  pass  over 
the  pain  of  that  parting.  With  many  tears  and  a  heavy 
heart  I  embarked  on  my  steamer  for  England. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A   TRIP  TO  PORTUGAL 
(1863-1865) 

Containeth  Time  a  twain  of  days — this  of  blessing,  that  of  bane , 
And  holdcth  Life  a  twain  of  halves — this  of  pleasure,  that  of  pain. 

ALF  LAYLAH  WA  LAYLAH 

(Burton's  "Arabian  Nights"). 

ON  returning  to  England,  a  long  and  dreary  in- 
terval of  fifteen  months  ensued.  Isabel  spent 
it  for  the  most  part  with  her  parents  in  London, 
working  all  the  time  for  her  husband  in  one  way  or 
another.  The  separation  was  broken  this  time  by 
one  or  two  voyages  which  she  made  from  England 
to  Teneriffe,  where  she  and  her  husband  met  for 
a  space  when  he  could  snatch  a  week  or  two  from 
Fernando  Po.  She  had  one  very  anxious  time;  it 
was  when  Burton  was  sent  on  a  special  mission  to 
the  King  of  Dahome,  to  impress  upon  that  potentate 
the  importance  the  British  Government  attached  to  the 
cessation  of  the  slave-trade,  and  to  endeavour  by  every 
possible  means  to  induce  him  to  discontinue  the  Daho- 
man  customs,  which  were  abominable  cruelties.  Burton 
succeeded  in  some  things,  and  his  dusky  majesty  took 

a  great  fancy  to  him,  and  he  made  him  a  brigadier- 

226 


H  Urip  to 

general  of  his  Amazons.  When  the  news  of  this  un- 
looked-for honour  reached  Isabel,  she  became  "  madly 
jealous  from  afar,"  for  she  pictured  to  herself  her 
husband  surrounded  by  lovely  houris  in  flowing  robes 
mounted  on  matchless  Arab  steeds.  Burton,  however, 
allayed  her  pangs  by  sending  her  a  little  sketch  of  the 
chief  officer  of  his  brigade,  as  a  type  of  the  rest.  Even 
Isabel,  who  owns  that  she  was  influenced  occasionally 
by  the  green-eyed  monster,  could  not  be  jealous  of  this 
enchantress. 

The  mission  to  the  King  of  Dahome  was  a  difficult 
and  dangerous  one ;  but  Burton  acquitted  himself  well. 
Isabel  at  home  lost  no  time  in  bringing  her  husband's 
services  before  Lord  Russell,  the  Foreign  Secretary,  and 
she  seized  this  opportunity  to  ask  for  his  promotion 
to  a  less  deadly  climate,  where  she  might  join  him. 
In  reply  she  received  the  following  letter  : 

"  MINTO,  October  6,  1863. 

"DEAR  MRS.  BURTON, 

"  I  know  the  climate  in  which  your  husband 
is  working  so  zealously  and  so  well  is  an  unhealthy 
one,  but  it  is  not  true  to  say  that  he  is  the  smallest  of 
consuls  in  the  worst  part  of  the  world.  Many  have 
inferior  salaries,  and  some  are  in  more  unhealthy  places. 
"  However,  if  I  find  a  vacancy  of  a  post  with  an  equal 
salary  and  a  better  pi  sition,  I  will  not  forget  his  services. 
I  do  not  imagine  he  would  wish  for  a  less  active  post. 

"  He  has  performed  his  mission  to  Dahome  very 
creditably,  to  my  entire  satisfaction. 

"  I  remain,  yours  truly, 

"  RUSSELL." 


228       Ube  IRomance  of  -Jsabel  Xaog  Burton 

With  this  answer  she  was  fain  to  be  content  for  a  space. 

In  August,  1864,  the  time  came  round  again  for 
Burton's  second  leave  home.  His  wife,  rejoicing, 
travelled  down  to  meet  him  at  Liverpool,  this  time 
to  part  no  more,  as  previously.  A  few  weeks  after  his 
return  they  went  to  Mortlake  Cemetery  and  chose  the 
place  for  their  grave,  the  very  spot  where  the  stone  tent 
now  is,  beneath  which  they  both  are  sleeping.  Very 
quickly  after  that  came  the  British  Association  meeting 
at  Bath  and  the  tragic  incident  of  Speke's  death. 1 

1  "  Laurence  Oliphant  conveyed  to  Richard  that  Speke  had  said 
that  '  if  Burton  appeared  on  the  platform  at  Bath  '  (which  was,  as 
it  were,  Speke's  native  town)  'he  would  kick  him.'  I  remember 
Richard's  answer — '  Well,  that  settles  it !  By  God  !  he  shall  ]s\c\i 
me '  ;  and  so  to  Bath  we  went.  There  was  to  be  no  speaking  on 
Africa  the  first  day,  but  the  next  day  was  fixed  for  the  '  great 
discussion  between  Burton  and  Speke.'  The  first  day  we  went 
on  the  platform  close  to  Speke.  He  looked  at  Richard  and  at 
me,  and  we  at  him.  I  shall  never  forget  his  face.  It  was  full  of 
sorrow,  of  yearning  and  perplexity.  Then  he  seemed  to  turn  to 
stone.  After  a  while  he  began  to  fidget  a  great  deal,  and  exclaimed 
half  aloud,  '  Oh,  I  cannot  stand  this  any  longer  ! '  He  got  up  to  go 
out.  The  man  nearest  him  said,  '  Shall  you  want  your  chair  again, 
sir?  May  I  have  it?  Shall  you  come  back?'  and  he  answered, 
'  I  hope  not,'  and  left  the  hall.  The  next  day  a  large  crowd  was 
assembled  for  this  famous  discussion.  All  the  distinguished  people 
were  with  the  Council ;  Richard  alone  was  excluded,  and  stood  on 
the  platform — we  two  alone,  he  with  his  notes  in  his  hand.  There 
was  a  delay  of  about  twenty-five  minutes,  and  then  the  Council  and 
speakers  filed  in  and  announced  the  terrible  accident  out  shooting 
that  had  befallen  poor  Speke  shortly  after  his  leaving  the  hall  the 
day  before.  Richard  sank  into  a  chair,  and  I  saw  by  the  workings 
of  his  face  the  terrible  emotion  he  was  controlling  and  the  shock 
he  had  received.  When  called  upon  to  speak,  in  a  voice  that 
trembled,  he  spoke  of  other  things  and  as  briefly  as  he  could. 
When  we  got  home  he  wept  long  and  bitterly,  and  I  was  for  many 
a  day  trying  to  comfort  him  "  (Life  of  Sir  Richard  Burton,  by 
Isabel  his  wife,  vol.  i.,  p.  389). 


229 

Apart  from  the  sad  circumstance  of  Speke's  death, 
which  cast  a  shadow  over  their  joy,  the  Burtons  passed 
a  very  pleasant  winter.  They  stayed  at  several 
country  houses,  as  was  their  wont,  and  found  many 
hospitable  friends  glad  to  receive  them,  and  met  many 
interesting  people,  notably  Professor  Jowett.  Early  in 
1864  they  went  on  a  two  months'  driving  tour  in 
Ireland,  which  they  explored  by  degrees  from  end  to 
end  after  their  own  fashion  in  an  Irish  car.  They 
paid  many  visits  en  route  ;  and  it  may  be  mentioned  in 
passing  that  Isabel  always  used  to  see  the  little  horse 
which  took  them  over  Ireland  had  his  midday  feed, 
washed  down  by  a  -pint  of  whisky  and  water.  She  always 
declared  that  this  was  what  kept  him  so  frisky  and 
fresh  !  This  Irish  tour  also  brings  out  the  restless, 
roving  spirit  of  both  Burton  and  his  wife.  Even  when 
on  leave  at  home,  and  in  the  midst  of  civilization,  they 
could  never  remain  any  length  of  time  in  one  place, 
but  preferred  to  be  on  the  move  and  rough  it  in  their 
own  fashion.  At  Dublin  they  met  with  an  unusual 
amount  of  hospitality ;  and  while  they  were  staying  in 
that  city  Isabel  met  Lentaigne,  the  great  convict  phil- 
anthropist. He  had  such  a  passion  for  taking  convicts 
in  and  trying  to  reform  them  that  Lord  Carlisle  once 
said  to  him,  "  Why,  Lentaigne,  you  will  wake  up  some 
morning  and  find  you  are  the  only  spoon  in  the  house." 
He  took  Isabel  to  see  all  the  prisons  and  reformatories 
in  Dublin,  and  endeavoured  to  arouse  in  her  something 
of  his  enthusiasm  for  their  inhabitants.  Knowing  that 
she  would  soon  be  bound  for  foreign  parts,  he  implored 
her  to  take  one  with  her,  a  convict  woman  of  about 


230      ttbe  TComance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

thirty-four,  who  was  just  being  discharged  after  fifteen 
years  in  prison.  a  Why,  Mr.  Lentaigne,  what  did  she 
do  ?  "  asked  Isabel.  "  Poor  girl  !  "  he  answered — "  the 
sweetest  creature  ! — she  murdered  her  baby  when  she 
was  sixteen."  "  Well,"  answered  Isabel,  "  I  would  do 
anything  to  oblige  you  ;  but  if  I  took  her,  I  dare  say  I 
should  often  be  left  alone  with  her,  and  at  thirty-four 
she  might  like  larger  game." 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  Burtons  again  re- 
presented to  Lord  Russell  how  miserable  their  lives 
were,  in  consequence  of  being  continually  separated  by 
the  deadly  climate  of  Fernando  Po.  Isabel's  repeated 
petitions  so  moved  the  Foreign  Secretary  that  he  trans- 
ferred Burton  to  the  Consulate  of  Santos  in  the  Brazils. 
It  was  not  much  of  a  post,  it  is  true,  and  with  a 
treacherous  climate  ;  but  still  his  wife  could  accompany 
him  there,  and  they  hailed  the  change  with  gratitude. 
Before  their  departure  a  complimentary  dinner  was 
given  by  the  Anthropological  Society  to  Burton,  with 
Lord  Stanley  (afterwards  Lord  Derby)  in  the  chair. 
Lord  Stanley  made  a  very  complimentary  speech  about 
the  guest  of  the  evening,  and  the  President  of  the 
Society  proposed  Mrs.  Burton's  health,  and  spoke  of  the 
"  respect  and  admiration  "  with  which  they  all  regarded 
her.  The  dinner  was  a  capital  send-off,  and  the 
Burtons  may  be  said  to  have  entered  upon  the  second 
stage  of  their  married  life  with  the  omens  set  fair. 

Husband  and  wife  arranged  that  they  should  go 
out  to  Portugal  together  for  a  little  tour ;  that  he 
should  go  on  from  there  to  Brazil ;  and  she  should 
return  to  London  to  wind  up  affairs,  and  as  soon  as 


a  Urfp  to  Portugal  131 

that  was  done  join  him  at  Rio.  In  accordance  with 
this  programme  they  embarked  at  Southampton  for 
Lisbon  on  May  10,  1865.  The  passage  out  was 
uneventful.  Isabel  in  her  journal  thus  describes  their 
experiences  on  arriving  at  Lisbon  : 

"  As  soon  as  our  vessel  dropped  her  anchor  a  crowd 
of  boats  came  alongside,  and  there  ensued  a  wonderful 
scene.  In  their  anxiety  to  secure  employment  the 
porters  almost  dragged  the  passengers  in  half,  and  tore 
the  baggage  from  each  other  as  dogs  fight  for  a  bone, 
screaming  themselves  hoarse  the  while,  and  scarcely 
intelligible  from  excitement.  The  noise  was  so  great 
we  could  not  hear  ourselves  speak,  and  our  great  diffi- 
culty was  to  prevent  any  one  of  them  from  fingering 
our  baggage.  We  made  up  our  minds  to  wait  till  the 
great  rush  was  over.  We  sent  some  baggage  on  with 
the  steamer,  and  kept  some  to  go  ashore.  I  am  sure 
I  do  not  exaggerate  when  I  say  that,  as  I  sat  and 
watched  one  bag,  I  told  fifteen  men,  one  after  another, 
to  let  it  alone.  We  saw  some  friends  go  off  in  the 
clutches  of  many  fingers,  and  amid  scenes  of  confusion 
and  excitement ;  but  not  caring  to  do  likewise,  we 
chose  a  boat,  and  went  round  to  the  custom-house. 
The  landing  was  most  disagreeable,  and  in  a  bad  gale 
not  to  be  done  at  all — merely  a  few  dirty  steps  on  the 
river-side.  In  wind  and  pelting  rain  we  walked  to 
our  hotel,  followed  closely  at  our  heels  by  men  and 
famished-looking  dogs.  We  proceeded  at  once  to  the 
best-looking  hotel  in  the  place,  the  Braganza,  which 
makes  some  show  from  the  river — a  large,  square,  red 
building,  several  storeys  high,  with  tiers  of  balconies 


232       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  %ao$  ^Button 

all  round  the  house.  On  account  of  the  diplomats 
occupying  this  hotel  on  a  special  mission  from  England 
to  give  the  Garter  to  the  King  of  Portugal,  it  was 
still  crowded,  and  we  were  put  up  in  the  garrets  at 
first.  After  two  days  we  were  given  a  very  pleasant 
suite  of  rooms — bedroom,  dining-  and  drawing-room — 
with  wide  windows  overlooking  the  Tagus  and  a  great 
part  of  Lisbon. 

"These  quarters  were,  however,  not  without  draw- 
backs, for  here  occurred  an  incident  which  gave  me  a 
foretaste  of  the  sort  of  thing  I  was  to  expect  in  Brazil. 
Our  bedroom  was  a  large  whitewashed  place  ;  there 
were  three  holes  in  the  wall,  one  at  the  bedside  bristling 
with  horns,  and  these  were  cockroaches  some  three 
inches  long.  The  drawing-room  was  gorgeous  with 
yellow  satin,  and  the  magnificent  yellow  curtains  were 
sprinkled  with  these  crawling  things.  The  consequence 
was  that  I  used  to  stand  on  a  chair  and  scream.  This 
annoyed  Richard  very  much.  *  A  nice  sort  of  traveller 
and  companion  you  are  going  to  make,'  he  said  ;  '  I 
suppose  you  think  you  look  very  pretty  and  interesting 
standing  on  that  chair  and  howling  at  those  innocent 
creatures.'  This  hurt  me  so  much  that,  without 
descending  from  the  chair,  I  stopped  screaming,  and 
made  a  meditation  like  St.  Simon  Stylites  on  his  pillar ; 
and  it  was,  *  That  if  I  was  going  to  live  in  a  country 
always  in  contact  with  these  and  worse  things,  though 
I  had  a  perfect  horror  of  anything  black  and  crawling, 
it  would  never  do  to  go  on  like  that.'  So  I  got  down, 
fetched  a  basin  of  water  and  a  slipper,  and  in  two 
hours,  by  the  watch,  I  had  knocked  ninety-seven  of 


H  Urip  to  jportuaal  233 

them  into  it.  It  cured  me.  From  that  day  I  had  no 
more  fear  of  vermin  and  reptiles,  which  is  just  as  well 
in  a  country  where  nature  is  over-luxuriant.  A  little 
while  after  we  changed  our  rooms  we  were  succeeded 
by  Lord  and  Lady  Lytton,  and,  to  my  infinite  delight, 
I  heard  the  same  screams  coming  from  the  same  room 
a  little  while  after.  *  There  ! '  I  said  in  triumph,  '  you 
see  I  am  not  the  only  woman  who  does  not  like 
cockroaches.'  * 

The  Burtons  tarried  two  months  in  Portugal,  and 
explored  it  from  end  to  end,  and  Isabel  made  notes  of 
everything  she  saw  in  her  characteristic  way..  Space 
does  not  permit  of  giving  the  account  of  her  Portuguese 
tour  in  full,  but  we  are  fain  to  find  room  for  the  follow- 
ing descriptions  of  a  bull-fight  and  procession  at  Lisbon. 
Burton  insisted  on  taking  his  wife  (whose  loathing  of 
cruelty  to  animals  was  intense)  to  see  it,  probably  to 
accustom  her  betimes  to  the  savage  sights  and  sounds 
which  might  await  her  in  the  semi-civilized  country 
whither  they  were  bound.  "  At  first,"  she  says,  "  I 
crouched  down  with  my  hands  over  my  face,  but  I 
gradually  peeped  through  one  finger  and  then  another 
until  I  saw  the  whole  of  it."  And  this  is  what  she  saw  : 

"  On  Sunday  afternoon  at  half-past  four  we  drove  to 
the  Campo  di  Sta.  Anna,  where  stands  the  Pra^a  dos 
Touros,  or  Bull  Circus,  a  wooden  edifice  built  in  the 
time  of  Dom  Miguel.  It  is  fitted  with  five  hundred 
boxes,  and  can  contain  ten  thousand  persons.  It  is  a 
high,  round,  red  building,  ornamented.  The  circle  has 
a  barrier  and  then  a  space  all  round,  and  a  second  and 
higher  barrier  where  the  people  begin.  They  were 


234      ftbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 

watering  the  ring  when  we  entered,  crackers  were  fizz- 
ing, and  the  band  was  playing.  At  five  o'clock  the 
circle  was  filled. 

"  A  blast  from  the  trumpets  announced  the  entry  of 
the  cavalleiro,  a  knight  on  a  prancing  steed  richly 
caparisoned,  which  performed  all  the  steps  and  evolu- 
tions of  the  old  Spanish  horsemanship — i.e.  saluting 
the  public  and  curveting  all  about  in  steps.  The 
cavalleiro  then  announced  the  deeds  to  be  performed, 
and  this  ceremony  was  called  '  the  greeting  of  the 
knight/  Before  him  marched  the  bull-fighters,  who 
ranged  themselves  for  inspection  in  ranks.  They 
were  sixteen  in  number.  Eight  gallegos  were  dressed 
in  white  stockings  to  the  knee,  flesh-coloured  tights, 
green  caps  lined  with  red,  red  sashes,  and  gay,  chintz- 
patterned  jackets,  and  were  armed  with  long  pronged 
forks  like  pitchforks,  called  homens  de  forfado.  They 
were  Portuguese,  fit  and  hearty.  Two  boys  in  chocolate- 
coloured  velvet  and  gold  attended  as  pages,  and  six 
Spaniards,  who  really  did  all  the  work,  completed  the 
number.  They  were  tall,  straight,  slim,  proud,  and 
graceful,  and  they  strutted  about  with  cool  jauntiness. 
Their  dress  began  with  dandy  shoes,  then  flesh-coloured 
stockings,  velvet  tights  slashed  with  gold  or  silver,  a 
scarlet  sash,  and  a  short  jacket  that  was  a  mass  of  gold 
or  silver,  and  a  sombrero  of  fanciful  make.  Their  hair 
was  as  short  as  possible,  save  for  a  pigtail  rolled  up  like 
a  woman's  back  hair  and  knotted  with  ribbon.  There 
was  one  in  green  and  gold,  one  in  pale  blue  and  silver, 
one  in  purple  and  silver,  one  in  dark  blue  and  silver, 
one  in  chocolate  and  silver,  and  one  in  maroon  and 


H  trrip  to  Portugal  «3S 

silver.  The  green  and  gold  was  the  favourite  man,  on 
account  of  his  coolness,  jaunty  demeanour,  and  his 
graceful  carelessness.  The  cavalleiro  having  inspected 
them,  retired.  Another  man  then  came  out,  the  piccador. 
"  At  a  fresh  blast  of  the  horn  the  door  of  the  arena 
flew  open,  and  in  rushed  a  bull.  For  an  instant  he 
stopped,  stared  wildly  round  in  surprise,  and  gave  a 
wild  roar  of  rage.  Then  he  made  at  the  horseman, 
whose  duty  it  was  to  receive  him  at  full  gallop  and  to 
plant  the  barb  in  his  neck  before  his  horns  reached  the 
horse's  hind-quarters,  which  he  would  otherwise  have 
ripped  up.  When  the  bull  had  received  several  barbs 
from  the  piccador,  he  was  tired  of  pursuing  the  horse. 
It  was  then  the  duty  of  the  Spaniards  to  run  so  as  to 
draw  the  bull  after  them,  when  on  foot  they  planted 
two  barbs  in  his  neck.  The  instant  he  received  them 
he  roared  and  turned  off  for  an  instant,  during  which 
the  man  flew  over  the  barrier  as  lightly  as  possible. 
This  went  on  for  some  time,  the  bull  bounding  about 
with  his  tail  in  the  air  and  roaring  as  he  sought  another 
victim.  The  prettiest  part  of  it  was  the  skill  of  the 
mat  odor  or  espada,  who  shook  a  cloak  at  the  bull.  The 
beast  immediately  rushed  at  it  as  quick  as  a  flash  of 
lightning  ;  the  espada  darted  aside,  twisted  the  cloak, 
and  changed  places  with  the  bull,  who  could  never  get 
at  him.  It  was  as  if  he  rushed  at  a  shadow.  It  was 
most  graceful.  In  the  case  of  our  green-and-gold 
espada  the  bulls  seemed  afraid  of  him.  They  retired 
before  his  gaze  as  he  knelt  down  before  them,  begging 
of  them  to  come  on ;  after  a  few  rounds  they  seemed  to 
acknowledge  a  master,  for  he  appeared  to  terrify  them. 


236       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  %ao$  Burton 

The  last  act  was  that  in  which  the  gallegos  tease  the  bull 
to  run  at  them.  One,  when  the  bull  was  charging  with 
bowed  head,  jumped  between  the  horns  and  clung  on, 
allowing  himself  to  be  flung  about,  and  the  others 
caught  hold  of  the  tail  and  jumped  on  his  back,  and  he 
pranced  about  till  tired.  This  is  literally  {  seizing  the 
bull  by  the  horns/  Then  oxen  with  bells  were  turned 
in,  and  the  bull  was  supposed  to  go  off  quietly  with 
them.  We  had  thirteen  bulls,  and  the  performance 
lasted  two  hours.  The  programmes  were  crammed 
with  high-flown  language. 

"  Women  were  there  in  full  war-paint,  green  and 
pink  silk  and  white  mantillas.  Little  children  of  four 
and  five  years  old  were  there  too.  No  wonder  they  grow 
hardened  !  A  few  English  tourists  were  present  also, 
and  a  lot  of  dirty-looking  people  dressed  in  Sunday 
best.  Our  first  bull  would  go  back  with  the  cows ; 
the  second  bull  jumped  over  the  barrier,  and  gave  a 
great  deal  of  trouble,  and  very  nearly  succeeded  in 
getting  amongst  the  people.  Every  now  and  then 
a  bull  would  fly  over  the  head  of  the  bandahille  and 
jump  the  barrier  to  escape  him.  One  bull  flew  at  the 
barrier,  and,  failing  to  clear  it,  fell  backwards  ;  one  bull 
would  not  fight,  and  was  fearfully  hissed  ;  one  had  to 
be  lassoed  to  get  him  out  of  the  ring.  Once  or  twice 
gallegos  would  have  been  gored  but  for  the  balls  on 
the  bulls'  horns. 

"  After  the  first  terror  I  found  the  fight  very 
exciting.  If  it  had  been  a  bit  more  cruel  no  woman 
ought  to  have  seen  it.  I  heard  some  who  were 
accustomed  to  Spanish  bull-fights  say  it  was  very  tame. 


H  {Trip  to  Iportuoal  237 

The  bulls'  horns  were  muffled,  so  that  they  could  not 
gore  the  horses  or  men.  Hence  there  were  no  dis- 
embowelled horses  and  dogs  lying  dead,  and  a  bull 
which  has  fought  well  is  not  unfairly  killed.  The  men 
were  bruised  though,  and  perhaps  the  horses.  The  bull 
had  some  twenty  barbs  sticking  in  the  fleshy  part  of 
his  neck.  When  he  is  lassoed  and  made  fast  in  the 
stable,  the  men  take  out  the  barbs,  wash  the  wounds 
in  vinegar  and  salt,  and  the  bull  returns  to  his  herd. 

"  The  day  before  we  left  Portugal — Richard  for 
Brazil  and  I  for  England — I  had  also  the  good  fortune 
to  witness  a  royal  procession. 

"  Early  in  the  day  Lisbon  presented  an  appearance 
as  if  something  unusual  was  about  to  take  place.  The 
streets  were  strewed  thickly  with  soft  red  sand.  The 
corridors  were  hung  with  festoons  of  gay-coloured 
drapery,  and  silk  cloths  and  carpets  hung  from  the 
balconies,  of  blue  and  scarlet  and  yellow.  The 
cathedral  had  a  grand  box  erected  outside,  of  scarlet 
and  green  velvet. 

"  Being  Corpus  Christi,  the  great  day  of  all  the  year, 
there  was  grand  High  Mass  and  Exposition.  All  the 
bishops,  priests,  and  the  Royal  Family  attended.  In 
the  afternoon  the  streets  were  crowded  with  people  on 
foot,  curious  groups  lined  the  sides,  and  carriages  were 
drawn  up  at  all  available  places.  At  four  o'clock 
a  flourish  of  trumpets  announced  that  the  procession 
had  issued  from  the  cathedral.  Officers,  covered  with 
decorations,  passed  to  and  fro  on  horseback.  Water- 
carriers  plied  their  aqua  f re  sea  trade.  Bands  played 
in  all  the  streets.  While  waiting,  Portuguese  men, 


238       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xabp  Burton 

with  brazen  effrontery,  asked  permissicn  to  get  into 
my  carriage  to  see  the  procession  better  ;  the  rude 
shopboys  clambered  up  the  wheels,  hiding  the  view 
with  their  hats.  I  dispersed  the  men,  but  took  in  the 
children.  They  did  not  attempt  this  with  any  of  the 
Portuguese  carriages,  but  only  with  mine. 

"  The  procession  occupied  two  hours  and  a  half.  First 
came  a  troop  of  black  men,  and  a  dragon  (i.e.  a  man  in 
scaly  armour)  mounted  on  an  elephant  in  their  midst. 
The  next  group  was  St.  George  on  his  horse,  followed 
by  Britannia — a  small  girl  astride  dressed  like  Britannia. 
The  military  presented  arms  to  Britannia.  These 
groups  were  both  followed  by  led  chargers  caparisoned 
with  scarlet  velvet  trappings,  their  manes  and  tails 
plaited  with  blue  silk,  and  with  blue  plumes  on  their 
heads.  They  were  led  by  grooms  in  the  royal  livery 
of  red  and  gold.  These  were  followed  by  all  the 
different  religious  orders,  carrying  tall  candles  mounted 
in  silver,  and  a  large  silver  crucifix  in  the  centre,  and 
surrounded  by  acolytes  in  red  cloth.  Then  came 
golden  canopies,  surmounted  by  gold  and  silver 
crosses.  Then  all  the  clergy  surrounding  some  great 
ecclesiastical  dignitary — the  bishop  probably — to  whom 
the  soldiers  presented  arms.  Then  came  an  official 
with  a  gold  bell  in  a  large  gold  frame,  which  was  rung 
three  times  at  every  few  hundred  yards,  followed  by 
a  huge  red-and-yellow  canopy,  under  which  were  the 
relics  of  St.  Vincent.  Then,  carried  on  cushions,  were 
seven  mitres  covered  with  jewels,  representing  the 
?even  archbishops,  more  crosses  and  candles,  clergy  in 
copes,  and  all  the  great  people  of  the  Church.  Then 


a  Urip  to  iportugal  239 

came  the  last  and  important  group.  It  was  headed 
by  a  procession  of  silver  lanterns  carried  by  the  bishops 
and  chief  priests.  Then  followed  a  magnificent  canopy, 
under  which  the  Cardinal  Patriarch  carried  the  Blessed 
Sacrament.  The  corners  of  the  canopy  were  held  by 
members  of  the  Royal  Family,  and  immediately  behind 
it  came  the  King.  The  troops  brought  up  the  rear. 
The  soldiers  knelt  as  the  Blessed  Sacrament  passed, 
and  we  all  went  on  our  knees  and  bowed  our  heads. 
The  King  was  tall,  dark,  and  majestic,  with  a  long 
nose  and  piercing  black  eyes,  and  he  walked  with 
grace  and  dignity.  He  wore  uniform  of  dark  blue 
with  gold  epaulettes,  and  the  Order  of  the  Garter, 
which  had  just  been  given  him." 

The  day  after  the  royal  procession  Burton  sailed 
from  Lisbon  for  Brazil.  His  wife  went  on  board  with 
him,  inspected  his  cabin,  and  saw  that  everything  was 
comfortable,  and  then  "  with  a  heavy  heart  returned  in  a 
boat  to  the  pier,  and  watched  the  vessel  slowly  steaming 
away  out  of  the  Tagus."  She  attempted  to  drive  after 
her  along  the  shore,  but  the  steamer  went  too  fast  ;  so 
she  went  to  the  nearest  church,  and  prayed  for  strength 
to  bear  the  separation.  Burton  had  told  his  wife  to 
return  to  England  by  the  next  steamer.  As  she  was 
in  the  habit  of  obeying  his  commands  very  literally, 
and  as  a  few  hours  after  he  left  Lisbon  a  little  cockle- 
shell of  a  steamer  came  in,  she  embarked  in  this  most 
unseaworthy  boat  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  though 
she  had  no  proper  accommodation  for  passengers.  They 
had  a  terrible  time  of  it  crossing  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  to 
all  the  accompaniments  of  a  raging  storm,  violent  sea- 


240      Ube  TRomance  of  Ssabel  Xaog  Burton 

sickness,  and  a  cabin  "  like  the  Black  Hole  of  Calcutta." 
Her  experiences  were  so  unpleasant  that  she  dubbed  the 
vessel  Te  Shippe  of  Hell.  Nevertheless,  as  was  her  wont, 
she  managed  to  see  the  ludicrous  side.  She  writes  : 

"  Our  passengers  were  some  fun.  There  was  not  a 
single  man  who  could  have  been  called  a  gentleman 
among  the  passengers,  and  only  two  ladies.  They 
were  Donna  Maria  Bita  Tenario  y  Moscoso  (a 
Portuguese  marquise),  travelling  for  her  health  with  a 
maid-companion,  and  myself  returning  with  my  maid 
to  England.  There  were  two  other  ladies  (so  called) 
with  children,  each  of  them  a  little  girl,  and  the  girls 
were  as  troublesome  as  the  monkey  and  the  dog  who 
were  with  them.  They  trod  on  our  toes,  rubbed  their 
jammy  fingers  on  our  dresses,  tore  our  leaves  out  of 
our  books,  screamed,  wanted  everything,  and  fought 
like  the  monkey  and  the  dog.  Their  papas  were  quiet, 
worthy  men.  We  had  also  on  board  a  captain  and 
mate  whose  ship  had  been  burnt  in  Morocco  with  a  full 
cargo  on  the  eve  of  returning  to  England  ;  a  gentleman 
returning  from  Teneriffe  (where  he  has  spent  twenty- 
five  years)  to  England,  his  native  land,  whom  everybody 
hoaxed  and  persuaded  him  almost  that  the  moon  was 
made  of  green  cheese  in  England  ;  a  Jew  who  ate, 
drank,  was  sick,  and  then  began  to  gorge  again,  laughed 
and  talked  and  was  sick  with  greatest  good  humour 
and  unconcern  ;  an  intelligent  and  well-mannered 
young  fellow,  English  born,  but  naturalized  in  Portugal, 
going  out  to  the  Consulate  at  Liverpool  ;  and,  lastly, 
a  Russian  gentleman,  who  looked  like  an  old  ball  of 
worsted  thrown  under  the  grate.  Nothing  was  talked 


H  Urip  to  Portugal  241 

of  but  sickness  and  so  forth  ;  but  I  must  say  they  were 
all  good-hearted,  good-humoured,  and  good-natured, 
and  their  kindness  to  each  other  on  the  voyage  nothing 
could  exceed.  The  two  terrible  children  aforesaid 
were  a  great  amusement  in  Ye  Shippe.  One  used  to 
tease  a  monkey  by  boiling  an  egg  hard  and  giving  it 
him  hot,  to  see  him  toss  it  from  paw  to  paw,  and  then 
holding  a  looking-glass  before  him,  for  him  to  see  his 
grimaces  and  antics  and  other  tricks  ;  and  the  other 
child  was  always  teasing  a  poor  Armenian  priest  born 
in  Jerusalem.  He  had  taken  a  second-class  passage 
amongst  the  sailors  and  common  men.  The  first  class 
was  bad  enough.  God  help  the  second  !  They  would 
not  give  the  poor  man  anything  to  eat,  and  bullied  and 
teased  him.  He  bore  up  in  such  a  manly  way  my  heart 
ached  for  him  and  made  me  blush  for  the  British  snob. 
I  used  to  load  my  pockets  with  things  for  him  when  I 
left  the  table,  and  got  the  first  class  to  admit  him  to 
our  society  under  an  awning  ;  but  the  captain  would 
not  have  him  in  the  cabin  or  on  the  upper  deck.  Our 
skipper  was  a  rough  man,  having  risen  from  a  common 
sailor,  but  pleasant  enough  when  in  a  polite  humour. 
The  third  amusement  was  the  fallals  of  our  maids,  who 
were  much  more  ill  and  helpless  than  their  mistresses. 
They  were  always  '  dying,'  *  wouldn't  get  up,' c  couldn't 
walk,'  but  had  to  be  supported  by  the  gentlemen. 
There  was  great  joy  on  the  sixth  day  because  we 
thought  we  saw  land.  It  might  have  been  a  fog-bank; 
it  might  have  been  Portland  Bill ;  anyway,  we  began  to 
pack  and  prepare  and  bet  who  would  sleep  ashore. 
We  awoke  on  the  seventh  day  in  a  fog  off  Beachy 

16 


242       Ube  IRomance  of  Jsabel  Xaop  Burton 

Head  at  4.30  a.m.,  and  lay  to  and  whistled.  Some 
time  after  we  passed  Eastbourne,  and  then  ran  plank 
along  the  coast.  How  pretty  the  white  walls  of 
England  looked  in  the  morning  sun  !  At  night  we 
reached  Gravesend  ;  but  there  was  too  little  water,  and 
we  went  aground  at  Erith,  where  we  were  obliged 
to  stay  till  next  morning,  owing  to  the  bad  fog  and 
no  water.  However,  we  made  our  way  up  to  St. 
Katherine's  wharf  at  ten.  There  was  an  awful  bustle  ; 
but  I  disturbed  the  whole  ship  to  land  ;  and  taking  my 
Portuguese  marquise  under  my  wing,  I  fought  my  way 
to  shore.  I  arrived  home  at  noon — a  happy  meeting  in 
the  bosom  of  my  family." 

Arrived  in  London,  Isabel  at  once  set  to  work  to 
complete  her  preparations  for  her  departure  to  Brazil. 
It  was  a  habit  with  the  Burtons  all  through  their  lives 
that,  whenever  they  were  leaving  England  for  any  length 
of  time,  Burton  started  first  in  light  marching  order  to 
prospect  the  place,  leaving  his  wife  behind  to  pay, 
pack,  and  bring  up  the  heavy  baggage  in  the  rear.  This 
was  the  case  in  the  present  instance.  When  her  work 
was  done,  Isabel  found  she  had  still  ten  days  on  her 
hands  before  the  steamer  sailed  from  Southampton  for 
Rio.  So  temporal  affairs  being  settled  for  the  nonce, 
she  turned  her  attention  to  her  spiritual  needs,  and 
prepared  herself  for  her  new  life  by  prayer  and  other 
religious  exercise.  She  went  into  retreat  for  a  week 
at  the  Convent  of  the  Assumption,  Kensington  Square. 
The  following  meditation  is  taken  from  her  devotional 
book  of  that  period  : 

"  I  am  to  bear  all  joyfully,  as  an  atonement  to  save 


H  ttrtp  to  Portugal  «43 

Richard.  How  thoughtful  for  me  has  been  God's 
dispensation !  He  rescued  me  from  a  fate  which, 
though  it  was  a  happy  one,  I  pined  in,  because  I  was 
intended  for  a  higher  destiny  and  yearned  for  it.  Let 
me  not  think  that  my  lot  is  to  be  exempt  from  trials, 
nor  shrink  from  them,  but  let  me  take  pain  and  pleasure 
alike.  Let  me  summon  health  and  spirits  and  nerves 
to  my  aid,  for  I  have  asked  and  obtained  a  most  diffi- 
cult mission,  and  I  must  acquire  patient  endurance  of 
suffering,  resistance  of  evil,  and  take  difficulties  and 
pain  with  courage  and  even  with  avidity.  My  mission 
and  my  religion  must  be  uppermost.  As  I  asked 
ardently  for  this  mission — none  other  than  to  be 
Richard's  wife — Jet  me  not  forget  to  ask  as  ardently 
for  grace  to  carry  it  out,  and  let  me  do  all  I  can  to  lay 
up  such  store  as  will  remain  with  me  beyond  the  grave. 
I  have  bought  bitter  experiences,  but  much  has,  I  hope, 
been  forgiven  me.  I  belong  to  God — the  God  who 
made  all  this  beautiful  world  which  perpetually  makes 
my  heart  so  glad.  I  cannot  see  Him,  but  I  feel  Him ; 
He  is  with  me,  within  me,  around  me,  everywhere.  If 
I  lost  Him,  what  would  become  of  me  ?  How  I  have 
bowed  down  before  my  husband's  intellect  !  If  I  lost 
Richard,  life  would  be  worthless.  Yet  he  and  I  and  life 
are  perishable,  and  will  soon  be  over  ;  but  God  and  my 
soul  and  eternity  are  everlasting.  I  pray  to  be  better 
moulded  to  the  will  of  God,  and  for  love  of  Him  to 
become  indifferent  to  what  may  befall  me." 

The  next  week  Isabel  sailed  from  Southampton  to 
join  her  husband  at  Rio. 


CHAPTER  V 

BRAZIL 
(1865—1867) 

For  to  share  is  the  bliss  of  heaven,  as  it  is  the  joy  of  earth  J 

And  the  unshared  bread  lacks  savour,  and  the  wine  unshared  lacks  Zest; 

And  the  joy  of  the  soul  redeemed  would  be  little,  little  worth, 

If,  content  with  its  own  security,  it  could  forget  the  rest. 

T  SABEL  had  a  pleasant  voyage  out  to  Brazil,  and 
JL  witnessed  for  the  first  time  the  ceremonies  of 
"  crossing  the  Line,"  Neptune,  and  the  tubbing, 
shaving,  climbing  the  greasy  pole,  sack  races,  and  all 
the  rest  of  it.  When  the  ship  arrived  at  Pernambuco, 
on  August  27,  Isabel  found  all  the  letters  she  had 
written  to  her  husband  since  they  had  parted  at  Lisbon 
accumulated  at  the  post-office.  This  upset  her  so  much 
that,  while  the  other  passengers  were  dancing  and 
making  merry,  she  stole  on  deck  and  passed  the 
evening  in  tears,  or,  to  use  her  own  phrase,  she  had 
"  a  good  boohoo  in  the  moonlight." 

A  few  days  later  the  ship  reached  Rio  de  Janeiro. 
Burton  came  on  board  to  meet  her,  and  she  had  the 
joy  of  personally  delivering  the  overdue  letters  into  his 
hands. 

They  stayed  five  or  six  weeks  in  Rio,  at  the  Estran- 

244 


geiros  Hotel,  and  enjoyed  a  good  deal  of  society,  and 
made  several  excursions  into  the  country  round  about. 
They  were  well  received  by  the  European  society  of  the 
place,  which  was  chiefly  naval  and  diplomatic.  This 
was  pleasant  for  Isabel,  who  could  never  quite  accommo- 
date herself  to  the  somewhat  second-rate  position  to 
which  the  English  Consul  and  his  wife  are  generally 
relegated  by  foreign  courts  (more  so  then  than  now). 
Isabel  was  always  sensitive  about  the  position  abroad 
of  her  husband  and  herself.  In  the  ordinary  way,  at 
many  foreign  capitals,  the  consul  and  his  wife  are  not 
permitted  to  attend  court,  and  the  line  of  demarca- 
tion between  the  Consular  and  Diplomatic  service  is 
rigidly  drawn.  But  Isabel  would  have  none  of  this, 
and  she  demanded  and  obtained  the  position  which 
belonged  to  her  by  birth,  and  to  her  husband  by 
reason  of  his  famous  and  distinguished  public  services. 
Burton  himself  cared  nothing  for  these  things,  and 
his  wife  only  cared  for  them  because  she  had  an  idea 
they  would  help  him  on  in  his  career.  That  her 
efforts  in  this  direction  did  help  him  there  is  no  doubt ; 
but  in  some  ways  they  may  have  hindered  too,  for  they 
aroused  jealousy  in  certain  small  minds  among  his 
colleagues  in  the  Consular  service,  who  disliked  to  see 
the  Burtons  taking  a  social  position  superior  to  their 
own.  The  fact  is  that  both  Richard  Burton  and  his 
wife  were  simply  thrown  away  in  the  Consular  service ; 
they  were  too  big  for  their  position,  in  energy,  in  ability, 
in  every  way.  They  had  no  field  for  their  activities, 
and  their  large  and  ardent  natures  perpetually  chafed 
at  the  restraints  and  petty  annoyances  resulting  from 


246       Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

their  semi-inferior  position.  Except  at  Damascus,  they 
were  round  pegs  in  square  holes.  Burton  was  not 
of  the  stuff  to  make  a  good  consul ;  and  the  same, 
relatively  speaking,  may  be  said  of  his  wife.  They 
were  both  of  them  in  a  false  position  from  the  start. 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  which  Isabel 
wrote  home  shortly  after  her  arrival  in  Brazil  is  of 
interest  in  this  connexion: 

"  I  dare  say  some  of  my  friends  do  not  know  what  a 
consul  is.  I  am  sure  I  had  not  the  remotest  idea  until 
I  came  here,  and  then  I  find  it  is  very  much  what 
Lady  Augusta  thinks  in  The  Bramkighs,  written  by 
a  much-respected  member  of  our  cloth,  Charles  Lever, 
consul  at  Trieste.  '  Isn't  a  consul,'  she  asks,  *  a  horrid 
creature  that  Jives  in  a  seaport,  and  worries  merchant 
seamen,  and  imprisons  people  who  have  no  passports  ? 
Papa  always  wrote  to  the  consul  about  getting  heavy 
baggage  through  the  custom-house ;  and  when  our 
servants  quarrelled  with  the  porters,  or  the  hotel  people, 
it  was  the  consul  sent  some  of  them  to  jail.  But  you  are 
aware,  darling,  he  isn't  a  creature  one  knows.  They 
are  simply  impossible,  dear — impossible  !  The  moment 
a  gentleman  touches  an  emp'oi  it's  all  over  with  him — 
from  that  hour  he  becomes  the  Customs  creature,  or  the 
consul,  or  the  factor,  or  whatever  it  be,  irrevocably.  Do 
you  know  that  is  the  only  way  to  keep  men  of  family 
out  of  small  official  life  ?  We  should  see  them  keeping 
lighthouses  if  it  were  not  for  the  obloquy.'  Now,  alas  ! 
dear,  as  you  are  well  aware,  I  do  know  what  a  consul  is, 
and  what  it  is  to  be  settled  down  in  a  place  that  my 
Irish  maid  calls  the  (  end  of  God's  speed,'  whatever  that 


347 

may  be  ;  but  which  I  interpret  that,  after  Providence 
made  the  world,  being  Saturday  night,  all  the  rubbish 
was  thrown  down  here  and  forgotten." 

She  was  over-sensitive  on  this  point,  and  keenly  alive 
to  slights  from  those  who,  though  inferior  in  other 
respects,  were  superior  in  official  position,  and  who  were 
jealous  when  they  saw  "  only  the  Consul's  wife  "  playing 
the  grande  dame.  They  were  unable  to  understand  that 
a  woman  of  Isabel's  calibre  could  hardly  play  any  other 
part  in  whatever  position  she  found  herself.  Fortu- 
nately, through  the  kindness  of  Sir  Edward  and  Lady 
Thornton  (Sir  Edward  was  then  British  Minister  at 
Rio),  she  experienced  very  few  of  these  annoyances 
at  Rio  ;  and  she  always  remembered  their  goodness  to 
her  in  this  respect.  The  Emperor  and  Empress  also 
took  the  Burtons  up,  and  made  much  of  them. 

On  this  their  first  sojourn  in  Rio  everything  was 
most  pleasant.  The  Diplomatic  society,  thanks  to  Sir 
Edward  and  Lady  Thornton,  welcomed  the  Burtons 
with  open  arms.  A  lady  who  occupied  a  prominent 
position  in  the  Diplomatic  circle  of  Rio  at  that  time 
has  told  me  the  following  about  Isabel :  "  We  liked 
her  from  the  first,  and  we  were  always  glad  to  see 
her  when  she  came  up  to  Rio  or  Petropolis  from  Sao 
Paulo.  She  was  a  handsome,  fascinating  woman,  full 
of  fun  and  high  spirits,  and  the  very  best  of  good 
company.  It  was  impossible  to  be  dull  with  her,  for 
she  was  a  brilliant  talker,  and  always  had  some  witty 
anecdotes  or  tales  of  her  adventures  to  tell  us.  She 
was  devoted  to  her  husband  and  his  interests,  and  was 
never  tired  of  singing  his  praises.  She  was  a  great 


248       ztbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JSurton 

help  to  him  in  every  way,  for  he  by  no  means  shared 
her  popularity." 

At  Rio  Isabel  gave  her  first  dinner-party — the  first 
since  her  marriage ;  and  here  she  got  a  touch  of  fever, 
which  lasted  for  some  time. 

When  she  was  sufficiently  recovered,  the  Burtons 
left  Rio  for  Santos  (their  consulate,  one  hundred  and 
twenty  miles  to  the  south).  They  went  down  on  board 
H.M.S.  Triton,  and  on  arrival  were  saluted  by  the 
usual  number  of  guns.  The  Consular  Corps  were 
in  attendance,  and  the  Brazilian  local  magnates  came 
to  visit  them.  Thus  began  Isabel's  first  experience 
of  official  life. 

Santos  was  only  a  mangrove  swamp,  and  in  many 
respects  as  unhealthy  as  Fernando  Po.  Burton  had 
come  down  and  inspected  the  place  before  the  arrival 
of  his  wife  at  Rio;  and  he  had  arranged,  as  there  were 
two  places  equally  requiring  the  presence  of  a  consul — 
Sao  Paulo  on  the  top  of  the  Serra,  and  Santos  low  down 
on  the  coast — that  Isabel  should  live  for  the  most  part 
at  Sao  Paulo,  which  was  comparatively  healthy,  and  that 
they  should  ride  up  and  down  between  Santos  and  Sao 
Paulo  as  need  required.  For  an  Englishwoman  to  have 
lived  always  at  Santos  would  have  been  fatal  to  her 
health.  The  railway  between  Santos  and  Sao  Paulo  was 
then  in  process  of  being  made.  As  they  had  determined 
not  to  sleep  at  Santos,  the  Burtons  went  the  same  day 
on  trolleys  along  the  new  line  as  far  as  Mugis,  where 
they  stayed  the  night.  The  next  day,  by  dint  of  mules, 
walking,  riding,  and  occasional  trolleys,  they  got  to  the 
top  of  the  Serra,  a  very  precipitous  climb.  At  the  top 


a  locomotive  took  them  to  Sao  Paulo,  where  they  put 
up  at  a  small  inn.  The  next  day  Burton  had  to  go 
down  to  Santos  to  establish  his  consulate ;  but  his  wife 
remained  at  Sao  Paulo  to  look  for  a  house,  and,  as  she 
said,  "set  up  our  first  real  home." 

In  about  a  fortnight  she  followed  him  down  to 
Santos  in  the  diligence,  and  remained  there  until  the 
swamps  gave  her  a  touch  of  fever.  She  then  went  up 
to  Sao  Paulo  again,  and  after  some  difficulty  found  a 
house.  This  was  in  the  latter  part  of  1865.  The 
whole  of  the  next  eighteen  months  was  spent  between 
Sao  Paulo  and  Santos,  varied  at  long  intervals  by  a  trip 
to  Rio,  or  a  visit  to  Barra,  the  watering-place,  or  ex- 
cursions in  the  country  round  Sao  Paulo.  Burton  was 
often  away  on  his  consular  duties  or  on  expeditions  to 
far-away  places,  and  his  wife  was  necessarily  left  much 
alone  at  Sao  Paulo,  where  she  led  a  life  more  like 
"  farmhouse  life,"  to  use  her  own  phrase,  than  anything 
else.  There  were  many  and  great  drawbacks  arising 
from  the  unhealthy  climate,  the  insects  and  vermin, 
and  the  want  of  congenial  society.  But  Isabel  was 
one  of  those  who  manage  to  get  enjoyment  out  of 
the  most  unlikely  surroundings,  and  she  always  made 
the  best  of  circumstances  and  the  material  at  her 
disposal.  As  one  has  said  of  her,  "  If  she  had  found 
herself  in  a  coal-hole,  she  would  immediately  have 
set  to  work  to  arrange  the  coals  to  the  best  possible 
advantage." 

On  the  whole,  this  period  of  her  life  (December,  1865, 
to  June,  1867)  was  a  happy  one.  The  story  of  it  is 
best  told  in  a  series  of  letters  which  she  wrote  to  her 


250      ttbe  TComance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

mother  ;  and  from  them  I  have  been  permitted  to  make 
the  following  extracts  : 

"SXo  PAULO,  December  15,  1865. 

"I  do  hate  Santos.  The  climate  is  beastly,  the 
people  fluffy.  The  stinks,  the  vermin,  the  food,  the 
niggers  are  all  of  a  piece.  There  are  no  walks  ;  and  if 
you  go  one  way,  you  sink  knee-deep  in  mangrove  swamps ; 
another  you  are  covered  with  sand -flies  ;  and  a  third  is 
crawling  up  a  steep  mountain  by  a  mule-path  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  the  sea  beyond  the  lagoons  which  surround 
Santos.  I  stayed  there  a  fortnight  and  some  days,  and 
I  got  quite  ill  and  peevish.  At  last  Richard  was  to 
go  to  Ignipe,  and  I  to  Sao  Paulo  again.  I  started  on 
Tuesday,  the  I2th,  at  one  in  the  day  ;  and  as  it  was  so 
fine  I  sent  all  my  cloaks  and  warm  wraps  away,  and 
started  in  a  boat,  as  for  two  hours  from  Santos  the  roads 
had  overflowed.  Then  I  took  the  diligence,  which  is  an 
open  van  with  seven  mules,  and  got  the  box-seat  to 
enjoy  the  country.  It  rained  in  buckets,  and  thundered 
and  lightened  all  the  way.  We  dined  in  a  roadside 
hut  on  black  beans  and  garlic,  I  and  strange  travelling 
companions,  and  arrived  in  eleven  and  a  half  hours.  I 
had  only  a  cotton  gown  on  and  no  shawl,  and  Kier  (my 
maid)  said  I  came  to  the  door  like  a  shivering  charity- 
girl,  with  the  rain  streaming  off  the  brim  of  my  hat. 
Kier  gave  me  some  tea  with  brandy,  groomed  me  down 
with  brandy  and  water,  and  put  me  between  blankets. 
They  think  me  a  wonderful  person  here  for  being  so 
independent,  as  all  the  ladies  are  namby-pamby.  To 
go  up  and  down  by  myself  between  Santos  and  Sao 


Pa,ulo  is  quite  a  masculine  feat.  I  am  the  only  woman 
who  ever  crossed  the  Serra  outside  the  diligence,  and 
the  only  lady  or  woman  who  ever  walked  across  the 
viaduct,  which  is  now  a  couple  of  planks  wide  across 
the  valley,  with  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  to  fall  if 
you  slip  or  get  giddy.  I  saw  every  one  staring  at  me 
and  holding  up  their  hands  ;  and  I  was  not  aware  I  had 
done  anything  odd,  till  I  landed  safely  the-  other  side, 
and  saw  all  the  rest  going  round.  The  next  day  two 
of  the  workmen  fell  off  and  were  killed. 

"  You  asked  me  to  tell  you  about  Sao  Paulo. 

"  I  have  taken  a  house  in  the  town  itself,  because  if 
Richard  has  to  be  away  often,  I  should  not  feel  very 
safe  with  only  Kier,  out  in  the  country  amongst  lawless 
people  and  beasts.  The  part  of  the  town  I  am  in  is 
very  high,  on  a  good  eminence,  and  therefore  dry  and 
healthy,  a  nice  little  street,  though  narrow.  I  have  an 
appartement  furnished  ;  four  rooms  to  myself  and  the 
use  of  three  others,  and  the  kitchen,  the  servant  of 
the  house,  and  everything  but  food,  for  150  milreis, 
or  £15  a  month. 

"  Behind  is  a  yard  and  a  patch  of  flowers,  which 
people  of  sanguine  temperaments  might  call  a  garden, 
where  we  keep  barrels  of  water  for  washing  or  drinking. 
We  have  to  buy  water  at  threepence  a  gallon. 

"  As  to  furniture,  in  the  Brazils  they  put  many 
things  into  a  house  which  you  do  not  want,  and  nothing 
you  do.  I  have  had  their  hard,  lumbering,  buggy  beds 
removed,  and  have  put  up  our  own  little  iron  English 
bedsteads  with  spring  mattresses.  I  slept  in  my  own 
cosy  little  bed  from  Montagu  Place  last  night  for  the 


252      Ube  "Romance  of  Ssabel  SLabg  Burton 

first  time  since  it  left  my  room  there  (now  Dilly's)  ;  I 
kissed  it  with  delight,  and  jumped  in  it.  I  also  bought 
one  in  London  for  Richard. 

"  My  servants  consist  of  Kier,  and  one  black  boy,  a 
very  curious  dwarf  as  black  as  the  grate,  named  Chico. 
He  is  honest  and  sharp  as  a  needle,  and  can  do  every- 
thing. All  the  English  here  wanted  him,  and  did  their 
best  to  prevent  his  coming  to  me  ;  but  he  ran  away, 
and  came  to  me  for  less  than  half  the  money  he  asked 
them ;  and  he  watches  me  like  a  dog,  and  flies  for  every- 
thing I  want.  I  shall  bring  him  home  with  me  when 
I  come.  The  slaves  here  have  to  work  night  and  day, 
and  people  treat  them  like  mules,  with  an  utter  dis- 
regard for  their  personal  comforts.  There  is  something 
superior  and  refined  in  my  dwarf,  and  I  treat  him  with 
the  same  consideration  as  I  would  a  white  servant ;  I 
see  that  he  has  plenty  of  good  food,  a  good  bed,  and 
proper  exercise  and  sleep,  and  he  works  none  the  worse 
for  it. 

"  Sao  Paulo  itself  is  a  pretty,  white,  straggling  town 
on  a  hill  and  running  down  into  a  high  table-land, 
which  is  well  wooded  and  watered,  and  mountains  all 
round  in  the  distance.  We  are  about  three  thousand 
feet  above  sea-level.  It  is  a  fine  climate,  too  hot  from 
nine  till  four  in  summer,  but  fairly  cool  all  the  other 
hours.  No  cockroaches,  fleas,  bugs,  and  sand-flies,  but 
only  mosquitoes  and  jiggers.  Out  in  the  country  there 
are  snakes,  monkeys,  jaguars,  and  wild  cats,  scorpion- 
centipedes,  and  spiders,  but  not  in  the  town.  Of  course 
it  is  dull  for  those  who  have  time  to  be  dull,  and  very 
expensive.  For  those  who  are  launched  in  Brazilian 


253 

society,  it  is  a  fast  and  immoral  place,  without  any  chic 
or  style.  It  is  full  of  students,  and  no  one  is  religious 
or  honest  in  money  matters  ;  and  I  should  never  be 
surprised  if  fire  were  rained  down  upon  it,  as  in  a  city 
of  the  Old  Testament,  for  want  of  a  just  Brazilian. 
En  revanche  it  is  very  healthy,  and  only  one  month's 
journey  to  England. 

11 1  have  had  my  first  jigger  since  I  wrote.  A  jigger 
is  a  little  dirty  insect  like  a  white  tick  that  gets  into 
your  foot,  under  your  toe-nail  if  possible,  burrows,  and 
makes  a  large  bag  of  eggs.  It  itches  ;  and  if  you  are 
wise,  you  send  at  once  for  a  negress,  and  she  picks  it 
out  with  a  common  pin :  if  you  do  it  yourself,  you  break 
its  bag,  and  your  foot  festers.  I  knew  nothing  about  it, 
and  left  it  for  eight  days,  and  found  I  could  not  walk 
for  a  little  black  lump  in  my  foot,  which  spurted  fluid 
like  ink  when  I  touched  it.  At  last  my  nigger  asked 
me  to  let  him  look  at  it,  and  he  got  a  sharp  pair  of 
scissors  and  took  it  out.  It  was  like  a  white  bag  this 
size  Q,  with  a  black  head,  and  it  left  quite  a  hole  in 
my  foot.  You  cannot  walk  about  here  without  your 
shoes,  and  they  must  be  full  of  camphor,  or  the  jiggers 
get  into  your  feet,  and  people  have  their  nails  taken 
off  to  extract  them,  and  sometimes  their  toes  and 
feet  cut  off." 

11  SAO  PAULO,  January  3,  1866. 

"  I  have  had  twelve  hard  days'  work,  from  six  in  the 
morning  till  late  at  night,  with  Kier  and  my  black  boy. 
We  have  had  to  unpack  fifty-nine  pieces  of  baggage, 
wash  the  dirty  trunks  and  stow  them  away,  sort,  dry, 


254       Ube  TRomance  of  3sabel  Xaog  ^Burton 

and  clean  all  their  contents,  and  arrange  ourselves  in 
our  rooms.  We  are  now  comfortable  for  the  moment ; 
but  we  shall  not  stay  here  very  long.  There  are  many 
disagreeables  in  the  house  which  I  did  not  know  till  I 
had  settled  in  it  and  taken  it  for  four  months.  For 
example,  I  have  rented  it  from  a  French  family  who  are 
composed,  it  appears,  of  odds  and  ends,  and  they  have 
the  same  right  as  myself  to  two  of  these  rooms,  the 
salon  and  the  storeroom,  so  I  am  not  alone  and  cannot 
do  as  I  like  ;  and,  worst  of  all,  one  of  them  is  a  lady 
who  will  come  up  and  call  on  me.  I  am  obliged  to 
send  to  her  and  beg  to  be  excused,  which  is  disagreeable. 
She  is,  it  appears,  a  notorious  personage.  Richard  is 
gone  to  the  mines,  and  has  been  away  now  nearly  three 
weeks  ;  and  I  have  taken  it  upon  myself  to  rent  a  very 
nice  house  opposite  this  one.  The  English  here  mis- 
lead one  about  expenses  ;  I  am  obliged  to  buy  my  own 
experience,  and  I  do  not  expect  to  shake  down  into  my 
income  for  three  or  four  months  more.  The  English 
like  to  appear  grand,  saving  all  the  while  ;  and  they 
like  to  show  me  off  as  their  lady  consul,  and  make 
me  run  into  expenses,  while  I  want  honestly  to  live 
within  £700  a  year,  and  have  as  much  comfort  as 
that  will  allow  us.  It  will  only  go  as  far  as  £300  in 
England." 

"SAo  PAULO,  January  17,  1866. 

"  I  have  settled  down  in  my  furnished  apartments 
with  Kier  and  Chico,  and  am  chiefly  employed  in 
arranging  domestic  expenses,  studying  Portuguese,  and 
practising  my  music.  Richard  has  been  gone  to  the 


255 

mines  a  month,  and  returned  to  Santos  yesterday  ;  so  I 
conclude  he  will  be  up  here  in  a  few  days.  It  is  our 
fifth  wedding  day  on  the  22nd.  Here  every  one  wants 
to  let  his  own  especial  dog-hole  to  us,  so  it  is  very  hard 
to  get  settled.  The  house  is  a  nice,  large,  roomy  one, 
with  good  views.  Kier  and  I  and  Chico,  with  the 
assistance  of  a  friend's  servant,  are  painting,  white- 
washing, and  papering  it  ourselves.  Only  fancy,  the 
Brazilians  are  dreadfully  shocked  at  me  for  working  ! 
They  never  do  anything  but  live  in  rags,  filth,  and  dis- 
comfort at  the  back  of  their  houses,  and  have  one  show- 
room and  one  show-dress  for  strangers,  eat  fejao  (black 
beans),  and  pretend  they  are  spending  the  deuce  and 
all.  The  eighth  deadly  sin  here  is  to  be  poor,  or  worse, 
economical.  They  say  I  am  economical,  because  I  work 
myself.  I  said  to  one  of  the  principal  ladies  yesterday : 
c  Yes,  I  am  economical ;  but  I  spend  all  I  have,  and  do 
not  save  ;  I  pay  my  debts,  and  make  my  husband  com- 
fortable ;  and  we  are  always  well  fed  and  well  dressed, 
and  clean  at  both  ends  of  our  house.  That's  English 
way!'  So  she  shut  up." 

"SAO  PAULO,  March  9,  1866. 

"  I  got  the  same  crying  fit  about  you,  dear  mother, 
last  week,  as  I  did  at  Lisbon,  starting  up  in  the  night 
and  screaming  out  that  you  were  dead  ;  I  find  I  do  it 
whenever  I  am  over-fatigued  and  weak.  The  chance 
of  losing  you  is  what  weighs  most  on  my  mind,  and  it 
is  therefore  my  nightmare  when  I  am  not  strong ;  not 
but  what  when  awake  I  am  perfectly  confident  that  we 
shall  meet  again  before  another  year  is  out. 


256       t;be  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  IBurton 

"  I  caught  a  cobra  snake  yesterday  in  our  garden, 
and  bottled  it  in  spirits,  and  also  heaps  of  spiders,  whose 
bite  is  like  a  cobra's — they  are  about  the  size  of  half  a 


crown." 


"SAo  PAULO,  April  18,  1866. 

"  I  have  had  a  great  row  in  my  house  last  night ;  but 
when  you  write  back,  you  must  not  mention  it,  because 
Richard  was  fortunately  out,  and  I  do  not  want  him  to 
know  it.  Chico  has  taken  a  great  dislike  to  the  young 
gentleman  who  lodges  in  my  house  downstairs,  because 
he  has  called  him  names  ;  so  last  night,  Richard  being 
away,  he  got  a  pail  full  of  slops  and  watched  for  him 
like  a  monkey  to  fling  it  all  over  him  ;  but  the  young 
man  caught  sight  of  him,  and  gave  him  a  kick  that  sent 
him  and  the  pail  flying  into  the  air.  I  heard  a  great 
noise  and  went  down,  ill  as  I  was,  and  found  the  little 
imp  chattering  like  a  monkey,  and  showing  his  teeth  ;  so 
I  made  him  go  down  on  his  knees  and  beg  the  young 
man's  pardon.  I  was  going  to  send  him  away  ;  but 
to-day  he  came  and  knelt  and  kissed  the  ground  before 
me,  and  implored  me  to  forgive  him  this  once,  and  he 
would  never  do  such  a  thing  again ;  so  I  have  promised 
this  time,  and  will  not  tell  Richard.  Richard  would 
half  kill  him  if  he  knew  it ;  so  you  must  none  of  you 
write  back  any  jokes." 

««SAo  PAULO,  May  14,  1866. 

"  My  house  is  now  completely  finished,  and  looks 
very  pretty  and  comfortable  in  a  barnlike  way.  I 
shall  be  so  pleased  to  receive  the  candlesticks  and  vases 


for  my  altar  as  a  birthday  present,  and  the  Mater 
Dolorosa.  My  chapel  is  the  only  really  pretty  and 
refined  part  of  my  house,  except  the  terrace  ;  the  rooms 
are  rough  and  coarse  with  holes  and  chinks,  but  with 
all  that  is  absolutely  necessary  in  them,  and  they  are 
large  and  airy.  I  painted  my  chapel  myself,  white  with 
a  blue  border  and  a  blue  domed  ceiling  and  a  gilt 
border.  I  first  nailed  thin  bits  of  wood  over  the  rat- 
holes  in  the  floor,  and  then  covered  it  with  Indian 
matting.  I  have  painted  inscriptions  on  the  walls  in 
blue.  I  have  always  a  lamp  burning,  and  the  altar  is  a 
mass  of  flowers.  It  is  of  plain  wood  with  the  Holy 
Stone  let  in,  and  covered  with  an  Indian  cloth,  and 
again  with  a  piece  of  lace.  I  have  white  muslin  curtains 
in  a  semicircle  opening  in  the  middle. 

"  On  May  5  my  landlord's  child  was  christened  in 
my  chapel.  They  asked  me  to  lend  it  to  them  for  the 
occasion,  so  I  decorated  the  chapel  and  made  it  very 
pretty.  I  thought  they  would  christen  the  child,  take 
a  glass  of  wine  and  a  bit  of  cake,  and  depart  within  an 
hour.  To  my  discomfort  they  brought  a  lot  of  friends, 
children,  and  niggers,  and  they  stopped  six  hours, 
during  which  I  had  to  entertain  them  (in  Portuguese). 
They  ran  all  over  my  house,  pulled  about  everything, 
ate  and  drank  everything,  spat  on  my  clean  floors, 
made  me  hold  the  child  to  be  christened,  and  it  was  a 
year  old,  and  kicked  and  screamed  like  a  young  colt  all 
the  time.  Part  of  the  ceremony  was  that  I  had  to 
present  a  silver  sword  about  the  size  of  a  dagger,  orna- 
mented with  mock  jewels,  to  the  statue  of  Our  Lady 
for  the  child.  I  had  a  very  pleasant  day! 

'7 


258       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  SSurton 

"  One  day  we  walked  almost  six  miles  out  of  Sao 
Paulo  up  the  mountains  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to  a 
small  wayside  chapel  ;  and  there  we  had  Sao  Paulo  like 
a  map  at  our  feet,  and  all  the  glorious  mountains  round 
us,  and  we  sat  under  a  banana  tree  and  spread  our 
lunch  and  ate  it,  and  stayed  all  day  and  walked  back 
in  the  cool  of  the  evening.  Some  of  these  South 
American  evening  scenes  are  very  lovely  and  on  a 
magnificent  scale.  The  canoes  paddling  down  the  river, 
the  sun  setting  on  the  mountains,  the  large  foliage  and 
big  insects,  the  cool,  sweet-scented  atmosphere,  and  a 
sort  of  evening  hum  in  the  air,  the  angelus  in  the 
distance,  the  thrum  of  the  guitars  from  the  blacks 
going  home  from  work — all  add  to  the  charm.  Richard 
came  home  on  Saturday,  the  I2th,  after  a  pleasant  nine- 
teen days'  ride  in  the  interior.  He  went  to  pay  a  visit 
to  some  French  savants  in  some  village,  and  they  took 
him  for  a  Brazilian  Government  spy,  and  were  very 
rude  to  him,  and  finding  afterwards  who  he  was  wrote 
him  an  humble  apology.  On  June  I  I  am  going  up  to 
Rio.  Richard  is  going  to  read  his  travels  before  the 
Emperor.  The  Comte  and  Comtesse  d'Eu  have  asked 
us  to  their  palace  ;  but  I  do  not  think  we  shall  go  there, 
as  there  will  be  too  much  etiquette  to  permit  of  our 
attending  to  our  affairs." 

"PETROPOLIS,  ABOVE  Rio,  June  22,   1866. 

"  Petropolis  is  a  bit  of  table-land  about  three  thousand 
feet  high  in  the  mountains,  just  big  enough  to  contain 
a  pretty,  white,  straggling  town,  with  a  river  running 
through  it — a  town  composed  of  villas  and  gardens,  and 


inhabited  by  the  Diplomatic  Corps.  It  is  a  Diplomatic 
nest,  in  fact.  This  small  settlement  is  surrounded  by 
the  mountain-tops,  and  on  all  sides  between  them  are 
wild  panoramic  views.  We  went  the  other  day  to  be 
presented  to  the  Emperor  and  Empress.  The  first 
time  we  were  taken  by  the  Vicomte  and  Vicomtesse 
Barbac.ena.  She  is  one  of  the  Empress's  favourites. 
I  was  in  grand  toilet,  and  Richard  in  uniform.  The 
palace  is  in  a  beautiful  locality,  but  not  grander  than 
Crewe,  or  any  English  country  gentleman's  place.  We 
were  ushered  through  lines  of  corridors  by  succes- 
sions of  chamberlains,  and  in  a  few  moments  into  the 
imperial  presence.  The  Emperor  is  a  fine  man,  about 
six  feet  two  inches,  with  chestnut  hair,  blue  eyes, 
and  broad  shoulders,  and  has  manly  manners.  He 
was  very  cordial  to  us,  and  after  a  short  audience 
we  were  passed  on  to  the  Empress's  reception-room, 
where,  after  the  usual  kissing  of  hands,  we  sat  down 
and  conversed  for  about  twenty  minutes  (always  in 
French).  She  is  a  daughter  of  Ferdinand  II.  of  Naples; 
and  the  Emperor,  as  you  know,  is  Pedro,  the  son  of 
Pedro  I.,  the  first  Emperor  of  Brazil  and  King  of 
Portugal. 

"  The  second  time  the  Emperor  kept  Richard  two 
hours  and  a  half  talking  on  important  affairs  and 
asking  his  opinion  of  the  resources  of  the  country. 
The  third  time  we  visited  the  Comte  d'Eu  and  the 
Due  de  Saxe,  who  have  each  married  daughters  of  the 
Emperor.  The  former  (Comte  d'Eu)  is  an  old  and 
kind  patron  of  Richard  ;  and  we  were  received  quite 
in  a  friendly  way  by  him,  like  any  other  morning  visit, 


260      Ube  IRomance  of  Ssabel  Xaos  JSurton 

and  we  are  now  in  a  position  to  go  whenever  we 
like  to  the  palace  sans  ceremonie.  None  of  the  other 
English  here  have  the  privilege.  While  we  were  with 
the  Comte  d'Eu  and  his  wife,  their  pet  terrier  came 
and  sat  up  and  begged  ;  it  looked  so  ridiculous,  so 
like  a  subject  before  royalty,  that  we  all  roared  with 
laughter.  I  am  reported  to  have  gone  to  Court  with 
a  magnificent  tiara  of  diamonds  (you  remember  my 
crystals  !).  The  Emperor  has  taken  a  great  fancy  to 
Richard,  and  has  put  him  in  communication  with  him, 
and  all  the  Ministers  of  State  here  make  a  great  fuss 
with  him  (Richard). 

"  The  society  in  Rio  is  entirely  Diplomatic.  There 
are  the  Ministers  from  every  Court  in  the  world  with 
their  attaches" 

M  Rio  DE  JANEIRO,  June,  1866. 

"  I  have  been  again  to  the  palace  (this  time  to  the 
birthday  drawing-room),  and  to-morrow  am  going  to 
see  the  Empress  in  the  evening.  I  am  very  fond  of 
our  Minister  and  his  wife,  Mr.1  and  Mrs.  Thornton, 
and  I  am  very  proud  of  them;  they  are  people  we 
can  look  up  to. 

"Since  I  wrote  Richard  has  given  two  lectures 
before  a  room  full  of  people.  The  Emperor  and 
Empress,  Comte  d'Eu,  and  the  Princesse  Imperiale 
were  present ;  we  had  to  receive  them,  and  to  entertain 
them  after  in  the  room  prepared  for  them.  I  have 
seen  them  three  times  since  I  wrote,  and  they  always 

1  Afterwards  the  Right  Hon.  Sir  Edward  Thornton,  H.B.M.  Minister 
at  Washington,  sometime  Ambassador  at  St.  Petersburg,  etc. 


make  us  sit  down  and  talk  to  us  for  some  time.  I 
told  the  Empress  all  about  your  paralysis,  and  how 
anxious  I  was  about  you;  and  she  is  so  sympathetic 
and  kind,  and  always  asks  what  news  I  have  of  you. 
She  appears  to  take  an  interest  in  me,  and  asks  me 
every  sort  of  question.  Most  of  my  time  in  Rio  has 
been  occupied  in  going  to  dinners." 

"Rio  DE  JANEIRO,  July  8,  1866. 

"  Yes,  I  am  still  covered  with  boils,  and  I  cannot  sit 
or  stand,  walk  or  lie  down,  without  a  moan,  and  I  am 
irritated  and  depressed  beyond  words.  I  do  not  know 
if  my  blood  be  too  poor  or  too  hot,  and  there  is  nobody 
here  to  ask ;  but  Kier  makes  me  drink  porter,  which  I 
can  get  at  Rio.  I  have  a  few  days  well,  and  then  I 
burst  out  in  crops  of  boils  ;  and  if  an  animal  sting  me, 
the  place  festers  directly,  and  after  I  get  well  again  for 
a  few  days.  I  am  very  thin,  and  my  nose  like  a  cut- 
water ;  and  people  who  saw  me  on  my  arrival  from 
England  say  I  look  very  delicate ;  but  I  feel  very  well 
when  I  have  no  boils. 

"  Since  I  wrote  the  flag-ship  has  come  in,  and  I  am 
greatly  distressed  because  I  am  going  to  lose  nearly  the 
only  nice  lady  friend  I  have,  Mrs.  Elliot,  who  was  a 
daughter  of  Sir  John  Plackett,  and  married  Admiral 
Elliot,  the  son  of  Lord  Minto ;  he  has  got  his 
promotion." 

"  Rio  DE  JANEIRO,  July  23,  1866. 

a  I  am  still  here.  Richard  left  me  a  fortnight  ago,  and 
I  am  still  at  the  Patent  work.  You  have  no  idea  how 


262       trbe  TComance  of  Isabel  %at>£  Burton 

heartbreaking  it  is  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
Ministers.  When  last  I  wrote  to  you,  we  were  in- 
formed that  we  had  obtained  our  concession.  I  was  in 
high  glee  about  it,  and  Richard  went  away  as  jolly  as  a 
sandboy,  only  leaving  me  to  receive  the  papers ;  and 
no  sooner  was  he  gone  than  I  got  a  letter  to  tell  me 
the  Council  of  State  had  raised  an  objection  to  its  being 
printed,  and  I  have  been  obliged  to  remain  in  the 
hotel  at  Rio  at  great  expense,  and  all  alone  to  fight 
the  case  as  best  I  may.  Richard  is  gone  to  look  after 
the  sea-serpent  (but  I  do  not  tell  this,  as  it  might  get 
him  into  a  row  with  the  F.  O.).  I  forgot  to  tell  you 
there  is  said  to  be  a  sea-serpent  here  one  hundred  and 
sixty  feet  long.  No  English  person  can  have  any  idea 
of  the  way  matters  are  conducted  at  Rio.  I  am  receiv- 
ing the  greatest  kindness  from  the  Emperor,  Empress, 
Comte  d'Eu,  and  the  Imperial  Princess,  and  the 
Ministers,  and  you  would  think  I  should  be  able  to 
get  anything.  They  offer  me  and  promise  me  every- 
thing; but  when  I  accept  it,  and  think  next  day  I  shall 
receive  my  Patent  papers  signed,  there  is  always  some 
little  hitch  that  will  take  a  few  days  more.  I  have 
been  here  seven  weeks  like  this,  and  of  course  have 
no  redress.  On  July  10  the  Meida  went  away,  taking 
the  Elliots,  the  Admiral  and  his  wife.  I  went  out  a 
little  way  with  them  ;  and  it  was  most  affecting  to  see 
the  parting  between  them  and  the  fleet.  The  ships  all 
manned  their  rigging,  cheered,  and  played  '  God  save 
the  Queen '  and  *  I  am  leaving  thee  in  sorrow.'  I 
never  saw  any  one  look  so  distressed  as  the  Admiral ; 
and  Mrs.  Elliot  cried,  and  so  did  I." 


263 

"SAO  PAULO,  August  17,  1866. 

"  On  Saturday,  the  i  ith,  I  left  Rio,  much  to  my  regret 
for  some  things,  and  to  that  of  the  friends  I  made  there, 
who  wanted  me  to  stay  for  a  ball  on  the  I4th.  How- 
ever, I  knew  Richard's  travels  would  be  finished  about 
that  day,  and  he  would  feel  dull  and  lonely  at  home 
alone,  so  I  thought  bonne  efouse  avant  touf,  and  that  the 
rest  could  take  care  of  itself.  I  sailed  on  the  nth, 
and  was  rewarded,  as  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning 
of  the  1 2th  poor  Richard  came  off  from  the  coast  in 
a  canoe  in  a  gale  of  wind,  and  the  captain  obliged  me 
by  laying  to  and  taking  him  in.  His  canoe  had  been 
upset,  and  he  was  two  days  in  the  water,  but  not  deep 
water.  We  then  came  home  together.  It  blew  very 
hard,  and  I  was  sick  all  the  way.  I  find  it  very  dull 
here  after  Rio.  It  is  like  farmhouse  life  up  the  country, 
with  no  one  to  speak  to ;  but  I  shall  soon  get 
reconciled,  and  have  plenty  to  do  to  make  the  place 
comfortable  again,  and  resume  my  bourgeoise  life." 

"SAO  PAULO,  September  2,  1866. 

"To-morrow  a  little  Englishman  and  woman  are  to 
be  married.  Richard  has  to  marry  them.  It  seems 
so  strange.  Fancy  him  doing  parson  !  We  shall  muster 
about  eighty  people,  Brazilian  and  English.  I  shall 
wear  my  poplin,  black  and  white  lace,  and  crystal 
coronet.  People  marry  at  five  in  the  evening,  and 
dance  after,  and  sleep  in  the  house.  Richard  says,  *  I 
won't  say,  "  Let  us  pray."  He  is  going  to  begin 
with,  {  Do  any  of  you  know  any  reason  why  this  man 
and  woman  should  not  be  married  ?  Have  any  of  you 


264      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 

got  anything  to  say  ?  *  Then,  shaking  his  finger  at 
them  in  a  threatening  way,  he  is  going  to  plunge  into 
it.  I  know  I  shall  burst  out  laughing." 

"SXo  PAULO,  September  15,  1866. 

"  I  do  not  think  the  climate  disagrees  with  me.  Of 
course  one  does  not  feel  buoyant  in  great  heat ;  but  it  is 
more  money  affairs  and  local  miseries  that  worry  me, 
and  you  know  we  all  have  them  in  every  latitude.  I 
should  not  feel  justified,  I  think,  in  coming  home  for 
anything  but  serious  illness.  I  have  just  domesticated 
and  tamed  Richard  a  little;  and  it  would  not  do  to  give 
him  an  excuse  for  becoming  a  wandering  vagabond 
again.  He  requires  a  comfortable  and  respectable 
home,  and  a  tight  hand  upon  his  purse-strings ;  and  I 
feel  that  I  have  a  mission  which  amply  fills  my  hands. 
Nobody  knows  all  the  difficulties  in  a  colonial  or  tropical 
home  till  she  has  tried  them — the  difficulty  of  giving 
and  taking,  of  being  charitable  and  sweet-tempered,  and 
yet  being  mistress  with  proper  dignity,  as  here  we  are 
all  on  a  par.  I  often  think  a  parvenue,  or  half-bred 
woman,  would  burst  if  she  had  to  do  as  I  do.  But 
do  not  notice  any  of  this  writing  back. 

"  I  have  had  a  ride  on  my  new  horse  :  a  wretched 
animal  to  look  at ;  but  he  went  like  the  wind  across  the 
country,  which  is  very  wild  and  beautiful.  The  riding 
here  is  very  different  to  English  riding.  If  the  animal 
is  to  walk  or  trot,  he  goes  a  sort  of  ambling  jiggle, 
which  I  think  most  uncomfortable.  You  cannot  rise, 
nor  do  even  a  military  trot,  but  sit  down  in  your  saddle 
like  a  jelly  and  let  him  go.  The  only  other  pace  is  a 


hard  gallop,  which  is  the  best ;  you  go  like  the  wind 
over  prairie  and  valley,  up  and  down  hill,  all  the  same. 
The  horses  here  are  trained  so  that  if  your  animal  puts 
his  foot  in  a  hole  you  shoot  off  over  his  head,  and  he 
turns  head  over  heels,  and  then  stands  up  and  waits  for 
you,  and  never  breaks  his  leg.  In  the  wilds  women 
ride  straddle-leg  like  a  man  ;  but  one  does  not  like  to 
do  it  here.  We  are  a  shade  too  civilized.  We  are 
leading  a  very  regular  life  :  up  at  5  a.m.  and  out  for  a 
walk  ;  I  then  go  to  Mass,  market,  and  home  ;  Richard 
gives  me  a  fencing  lesson  and  Indian  clubs  ;  then  cold 
bath  and  dress  ;  breakfast  at  1 1  a.m.,  and  then  look 
after  my  house ;  practise  singing,  Portuguese,  help 
Richard  with  literature,  dine  at  six  o'clock,  and  to 
bed  at  nine  or  ten. 

"  I  am  at  present  engaged  with  the  F.  O.  Reports  :  1 
have  to  copy  (i)  thirty-two  pages  on  Cotton  Report  ; 
(2)  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  pages  Geographical 
Report ;  (3)  eighty  pages  General  Trade  Report.  This 
for  Lord  Stanley,  so  I  do  it  cheerfully." 

"Rio  DE  JANEIRO,  December  8,  1866. 

a  We  are  nearly  all  down  with  cholera.  I  have  had 
a  very  mild  attack.  Our  Charge  £  affaires  has  nearly 
died  of  it,  and  also  our  Secretary  of  Legation  ;  Kier  has 
had  it  also  mildly.  Here  people  cannot  drink  or  be 
indolent  with  impunity.  If  I  did  not  fence,  do  gymnas- 
tics, ride  and  bathe  in  the  sea,  eat  and  drink  but  little, 
attend  to  my  internal  arrangements,  and  occupy  myself 
from  early  till  late,  to  keep  my  mind  free  from  the 
depression  that  comes  upon  us  all  in  these  latitudes, 


266       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

especially  those  who  are  not  in  clover  like  us,  I  could 
not  live  for  six  months.  As  it  is,  I  do  not  think  I  have 
lost  anything,  except  one's  skin  darkens  from  the  sun, 
and  one  feels  weak  from  the  heat ;  but  I  could  recover 
in  six  months  in  England. 

"  When  I  got  the  cholera,  it  was  three  in  the  morn- 
ing. I  thought  I  was  dying,  so  I  got  up,  went  to 
my  desk  and  settled  all  my  worldly  affairs,  carried 
my  last  instructions  to  Kier  in  her  bed,  put  on  my 
clothes,  and  went  out  to  confession  and  communion." 

"Rio  DE  JANEIRO,  December  22,  1866. 

"  I  have  come  down  to  Rio  again  to  try  and  sell  a 
book  of  Richard's,  and  am  still  at  work  about  the  gold 
concession.  Richard  is  travelling  (with  leave)  in  the 
interior.  I  accompanied  Richard  part  of  the  way  on 
his  travels.  We  parted  on  a  little  mountain  with  a 
church  on  the  top — a  most  romantic  spot.  He  started 
with  two  companions,  three  horse-boys,  and  a  long 
string  of  mules.  I  rode  my  black  horse,  and  returned 
alone  with  one  mounted  slave.  We  had  fearful  weather 
all  the  time,  torrents  of  tropical  rain,  thunder  and 
lightning,  and  our  horses  were  often  knee-deep  in  the 
slush  and  mud.  You  cannot  imagine  how  beautiful  the 
forests  are.  The  trees  are  all  interlaced  with  beautiful 
creepers,  things  that  would  be  cultivated  in  a  hot-house, 
and  then  be  a  failure,  and  all  wild,  tangled,  and 
luxuriant,  and  in  a  virgin  forest ;  you  must  force  your 
horse  through  these  to  make  your  way. 

"You  need  not  be  frightened  about  me  and  my 
riding,  though  every  one  says  I  am  sure  to  be  thrown 


some  day;  but  I  never  ride  a  Rio  Grande  horse  for  that 
reason.  Only  a  man  can  shoot  off  properly  when  they 
turn  head  over  heels.  I  am  getting  very  well  up  in 
all  that  concerns  stables  and  horses,  and  ride  every  day. 
The  other  day  I  went  off  to  ride,  and  I  lost  myself  for 
four  and  a  half  hours  in  a  forest,  and  got  quite  frightened. 
I  met  two  bulls  and  a  large  snake  (cobra);  I  rode  away 
from  the  two  former,  and  the  latter  wriggled  away  under 
my  horse's  belly ;  he  was  frightened  at  it.  The  ladies' 
society  here  is  awful ;  they  have  all  risen  out  of  unknown 
depths.  Chico  is  still  with  me,  and  likely  to  be,  as  we 
are  both  very  fond  of  him.  I  have  made  a  smart  lad  of 
him,  and  he  would  make  a  great  sensation  in  London 
as  a  tiger.  He  is  so  proud  of  the  buttons  Rody  sent 
me  for  him,  and  shows  them  to  every  one." 

"SAO  PAULO,  March  10,  1867. 

"  When  Richard  is  away,  it  is  not  always  safe  here. 
For  instance,  last  night  a  drunken  English  sailor,  who 
had  run  away  from  his  ship,  got  into  the  house,  and 
insisted  on  having  a  passport  and  his  papers  made 
out.  I  could  not  persuade  him  that  the  Consul  was 
absent,  and  had  to  give  him  food  and  money  to  get 
him  out.  Still,  if  he  had  used  any  violence,  I  would 
have  gone  down  to  the  lodgers.  At  the  same  time, 
I  never  see  or  hear  of  them  unless  I  wish  it.  Do  not 
mention  about  the  drunken  sailor  writing  back,  as 
Richard  would  say  it  was  my  own  fault,  because  I 
will  not  allow  any  one  to  be  turned  away  from  my 
door  who  is  in  need,  and  so  my  house  is  open  to  all 
the  poor  of  the  neighbourhood,  and  he  scolds  me  for 


268      Ube  TComance  of  Isabel  %aos  JSurton 

it.     I  sometimes  suffer  for  it,  but  only  one  case  out 
of  twenty. 

"  Brazilians  never  give  charity ;  and  how  can  the 
poor  judge  between  a  true  Catholic  and  a  Brazilian 
one,  if  some  of  us  do  not  act  up  to  our  religion  in 
the  only  way  that  speaks  home  to  them  ?  I  certainly 
felt  rather  frightened  last  night,  as  the  sailor  told  me 
he  was  *  a  damned  scoundrel  and  a  murderer,'  and 
wanted  a  bed  in  the  house ;  but  I  coaxed  him  off 
with  a  milreis,  and  then  barred  the  door." 

"THE  BARRA,  April  13,  1867. 

"  I  write  to  you  from  a  fresh  place.  In  Sao  Paulo 
they  have  been  making  a  new  road,  and  have  enclosed 
a  piece  of  marsh  with  water  five  feet  deep.  The  new 
road  prevents  this  discharging  itself  into  the  river 
beneath,  and  the  enclosed  water  is  stagnant  and  putrid, 
and  causes  a  malaria  in  my  house.  Richard  has  just 
returned — knocked  up  by  six  weeks  in  the  wilds — 
and  he  broke  out  with  fever.  I  felt  affected  and  the 
whole  house  squeamish.  I  rushed  off  with  Richard 
to  the  sea-border,  about  fifty  miles  from  Sao  Paulo. 
Kier  begged  to  be  left.  We  have  got  a  magnificent 
sand-beach,  and  rose-coloured  shells,  and  spacious  bay, 
and  mountain  scenery  all  around  ;  but  we  have  some 
other  disadvantages.  It  would  be  intensely  pleasant  if 
Richard  would  get  better.  One  might  walk  on  the 
beach  in  one's  nightgown  ;  and  we  walked  from  our 
ranee,  or  shed,  to  the  sea,  and  can  bathe  and  walk  as 
we  like.  We  are  in  what  they  dare  to  call  the  hotel. 
It  is  a  shed,  Swiss-shape,  and  as  good  inside  as  a  poor 


cottage  at  home,  with  fare  to  match.  It  is  as  hot  as 
the  lower  regions ;  and  if  one  could  take  off  one's 
flesh  and  sit  in  one's  bones,  one  would  be  too  glad. 
The  very  sea-breeze  dries  you  up,  and  the  vermin 
numbers  about  twenty  species.  The  flies  of  various 
kinds,  mosquitoes,  sand-flies,  and  borruchutes,  are  at  you 
day  and  night ;  and  if  you  jump  up  in  the  night,  it  is 
only  to  squash  beetles.  A  woman  here  had  a  snake 
round  her  leg  yesterday.  Behind  the  house  and  up 
to  the  first  range  of  mountains  is  one  vast  mangrove 
swamp,  full  of  fevers  and  vermin.  I  will  not  sleep  in 
the  beds  about  in  strange  houses  (there  is  so  much 
leprosy  in  the  country),  and  so  I  always  carry  my 
hammock  with  me,  and  sling  it.  Last  night  it  blew 
so  hard  that  Chico  and  I  had  to  get  up  and  nail  all 
the  old  things  they  call  windows.  I  thought  the  old 
shanty  was  going  to  be  carried  away.  I  must  tell  you 
this  is  our  sanatorium  or  fashionable  watering-place 
here. 

"  I  have  had  another  bad  boil  since  I  wrote  to  you. 
We  have  had  a  Brazilian  friend  of  Richard's  lodging 
with  us,  who  kept  saying,  *  If  you  ride  with  that  boil, 
in  a  few  days  you  will  fall  down  dead '  ;  or,  '  Oh  ! 
don't  leave  that  jigger  in  your  foot  ;  in  a  week  it  will 
have  to  be  cut  off.'  Such  was  his  mania  ;  and  he  used 
to  go  to  bed  all  tied  up  with  towels  and  things  for 
fear  his  ears  should  catch  cold.  He  was  quite  a  young 
man  too ! 

"  You  know  I  have  often  told  you  that  people  here 
think  me  shockingly  independent  because  I  ride  with 
Chico  behind  me.  So  what  do  you  think  I  did  the  other 


270      Ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  3La£>£  3Burton 

day  ?  They  have,  at  last,  something  to  talk  about  now. 
I  rode  out  about  a  league  and  a  half,  where  I  met  four 
fine  geese.  I  must  tell  you  I  have  never  seen  a  goose  ; 
they  do  not  eat  them  here,  but  only  use  them  as  an 
ornamental  bird.  Well,  Chico  and  I  caught  them, 
and  slung  one  at  each  side  of  my  saddle,  and  one  at 
each  side  of  his,  and  rode  with  them  cackling  and 
squawking  all  the  way  through  the  town  ;  and  whenever 
I  met  any  woman  I  thought  would  be  ashamed  of  me, 
I  stopped  and  was  ever  so  civil  to  her.  When  I  got 
up  to  our  house,  Richard,  hearing  the  noise,  ran  out 
on  the  balcony  ;  and  seeing  what  was  the  matter,  he 
laughed  and  shook  his  fist,  and  said,  'Oh,  you  delightful 
blackguard — how  like  you  ! ' 

Two  months  later  Burton  obtained  leave  of  absence 
from  his  consulate,  and  he  and  his  wife  started  on 
an  expedition  into  the  interior.  This  expedition  was 
the  most  memorable  event  of  Isabel's  life  in  Brazil. 
On  her  return  she  wrote  a  full  account  of  her  adven- 
tures, intending  to  publish  it  later.  She  never  did  so, 
and  we  found  the  manuscript  among  her  papers  after 
her  death.  This  unpublished  manuscript,  revised  and 
condensed,  forms  the  next  three  chapters. 


CHAPTER    VI 

OUR   EXPEDITION  INTO    THE    INTERIOR 
(1867) 

S'il  existe  un  pays  qui  jamais  puisse  se  passer  du  reste  du   monde,  ce 
sera  certainement  la  Province  des  Mines. 

ST.  HILAIRE. 

WE  had  been  in  Brazil  now  nearly  two  years, 
vegetating  between  Santos  and  Sao  Paulo,  with 
an  occasional  trip  to  Rio  de  Janeiro.  Though  Richard 
had  made  several  expeditions  on  his  own  account,  I  had 
never  yet  been  able  to  go  very  far  afield  or  to  see  life 
in  the  wilds.  It  was  therefore  with  no  small  delight 
that  I  received  the  news  that  we  had  a  short  leave 
of  absence,  admitting  of  three  months'  wandering.  The 
hammocks  and  saddle-bags  were  soon  ready,  and  we 
sailed  for  Rio,  which  was  about  two  hundred  miles 
from  our  consulate.  At  Rio  we  received  some  friendly 
hints  concerning  our  tour  from  exalted  quarters,  where 
brain  and  personal  merit  met  with  courtesy,  despite 
official  grade  and  tropical  bile.  We  determined  in 
consequence  to  prospect  the  great  and  wealthy  province 
of  Minas  Geraes,  and  not  to  do  simply  the  beaten 

track,  but  to  go  off"  the  roads  and  to  see  what   the 

271 


27«      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xa&p  JSurton 

province  really  was  like.  We  wanted  to  visit  the  gold- 
mines, and  to  report  concerning  the  new  railway — 
about  the  proper  line  of  which  two  parties  were  con- 
tending— a  question  of  private  or  public  benefit.  We 
also  intended  to  go  down  the  Sao  Francisco  River,  the 
Brazilian  Mississippi,  from  Sabara  to  the  sea,  and  to 
visit  the  Paulo  Affonso  Rapids,  the  Niagara  of  Brazil. 

We  left  Rio  on  June  12,  1867,  and  sailed  from  the 
Prainha  in  a  little  steamer,  which  paddled  across  the 
Bay  of  Rio  in  fine  style,  and  deposited  us  in  about 
two  hours  on  a  rickety  little  wharf  at  the  northern 
end  called  the  Mana  landing-place,  whence  the  well- 
known  financial  firm  of  that  name. 

Whoever  has  not  seen  the  Bay  of  Rio  would  do 
well  to  see  it  before  he  dies ;  it  would  repay  him. 
All  great  travellers  say  that  it  competes  with  the 
Golden  Horn.  It  is  like  a  broad  and  long  lake 
surrounded  by  mountains  and  studded  with  islands  and 
boulders.  But  it  is  absurd  to  try  and  describe  the 
bay  with  the  pen  ;  one  might  paint  it  ;  for  much  of 
its  beauty  (like  a  golden-haired,  blue-eyed  English 
girl  of  the  barley-sugar  description)  lies  in  the  colouring. 

At  the  rickety  landing-place  begins  a  little  railroad, 
which  runs  for  eleven  miles  through  a  mangrove 
and  papyrus  flat  to  the  foot  of  the  Estrella  range  of 
mountains.  Here  we  changed  the  train  for  a  carriage 
drawn  by  four  mules,  and  commenced  a  zigzag  ascent 
up  the  mountains,  which  are  grand.  We  wound  round 
and  round  a  colossal  amphitheatre,  the  shaggy  walls  of 
which  were  clothed  with  a  tropical  forest,  rich  with 
bamboos  and  ferns,  each  •  zigzag  showing  exquisite 


©ur  Expedition  into  tbe  Anterior          273 

panoramas  of  the  bay  beneath.  The  ascent  occupied 
two  hours  ;  and  at  last,  at  the  height  of  three  thousand 
feet,  we  arrived  at  a  table-land  like  a  tropical  Cha- 
mounix.  Here  was  Petropolis,  where  we  tarried  for 
some  days. 

Petropolis  is  a  pretty,  white,  straggling  settlement, 
chiefly  inhabited  by  Germans.  It  has  two  streets,  with 
a  river  running  between,  across  which  are  many  little 
bridges,  a  church,  a  theatre,  four  or  five  hotels,  the 
Emperor's  palace,  and  villas  dotted  everywhere.  It 
is  the  Imperial  and  Diplomatic  health  resort,  and  the 
people  attached  to  the  Court  and  the  Diplomatic 
Corps  have  snuggeries  scattered  all  about  the  table- 
land of  Petropolis,  and  form  a  pleasant  little  society. 
The  cottages  are  like  Swiss  chalets.  It  is  a  paradise 
of  mountains,  rocks,  cascades,  and  bold  panoramas. 
Here  abounded  the  usual  mysterious  chdkt  of  the 
bachelor  attache.  I  will  take  you  up  that  ridgy  path 
and  show  you  a  type  of  the  class  :  four  little  rooms 
strewed  with  guns,  pistols,  foils,  and  fishing-tackle,  a 
hammock,  books,  writing  materials,  pictures  of  lovely 
woman  dressing  or  kissing  a  bird  or  looking  in  the 
glass,  pretty  curtains,  frescoes  on  the  walls  drawn  in 
a  bold  hand  of  sporting  subjects,  enfantillage — and 
other  things  !  This  is  the  chalet  of  the  Vicomte  de 

B ,  attache  to  the  French  Legation,  a  fair  type  of 

the  rest. 

We  left  Petropolis  for  Juiz  de  Fora  at  daybreak 
on  a  fine,  cold  morning  ;  the  grey  mist  was  still  cling- 
ing to  the  mountains.  We  had  a  large  char-a-banc^ 
holding  eight,  in  two  and  two,  all  facing  the  horses. 

18 


We  took  our  small  bags  with  us,  but  everything 
heavier  had  gone  on  in  the  public  coach.  Our  party, 
besides  Richard  and  myself,  consisted  of  Mr.  Morritt, 
proprietor  of  the  hotel  and  the  char-a-banc^  and  three 
other  Englishmen,  who  with  the  driver  and  my  negret 
Chico  made  up  the  eight.  The  four  mules  were  so 
fresh  that  they  were  with  difficulty  harnessed,  and 
were  held  in  by  four  men.  When  the  horn  sounded, 
they  sprang  on  all  fours  and  started  with  a  rush, 
with  a  runner  at  either  side  for  a  few  yards  till  clear  of 
the  bridge.  We  simply  tore  along  the  mountain-side. 

I  shall  save  a  great  deal  of  trouble  if  I  describe 
the  scenery  wholesale  for  a  hundred  miles  and  specify 
afterwards.  Our  trap  dashed  along  at  pleasant  speed 
through  splendid  amphitheatres  of  wooded  mountains, 
with  broad  rivers  sweeping  down  through  the  valleys, 
with  rapids  here  and  there,  and  boulders  of  rock  and 
waterfalls.  The  drive  was  along  a  first-rate  road, 
winding  over  the  mountain-side.  The  roads  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Parahybuna  River  were  as  high,  as 
beautiful,  and  as  well  wooded  as  the  one  along  which 
we  drove.  In  all  my  Brazilian  travelling  this  descrip- 
tion of  the  scenery  would  mostly  serve  for  every 
day,  but  here  and  there  we  found  a  special  bit  of 
beauty  or  more  exquisite  peep  between  the  ridges. 
At  first  you  think  your  eyes  will  never  tire  of  admiring 
such  trees  and  such  foliage,  but  at  last  they  hardly 
elicit  an  observation.  '  A  circumstance  that  created 
a  laugh  against  us  was  that,  like  true  Britishers, 
Richard  and  I  had  our  note-books,  and  we  beset 
poor  Mr.  Morritt  with  five  questions  at  once.  He 


©ur  Bjpefcftton  tnto  tbe  Snterfor          275 

was  so  good  and  patient,  and  when  he  had  finished 
with  one  of  us  would  turn  to  the  other  and  say, 
"  Well,  and  what  can  I  do  for  you  ? " 

Our  first  stage  was  the  "  Farm  of  Padre  Carrea," 
a  hollow  in  the  hills,  where  we  changed  mules.  We 
drove  for  forty  miles  downhill ;  then  we  had  fifteen 
or  twenty  on  the  level  when  crossing  the  river  valley; 
then  we  ascended  again  for  thirty-nine  miles.  The 
road  was  splendid ;  it  was  made  by  two  French 
engineers.  Our  second  station  was  Pedro  do  Rio. 
The  third  was  Posse,  the  most  important  station  on 
the  road  for  receiving  coffee.  Here  thousands  of  mules 
meet  to  load  and  unload,  rest  and  go  their  ways.  This 
scene  was  very  picturesque. 

After  Posse  we  began  to  see  more  fertile  land,  and 
we  passed  a  mountain  of  granite  which,  if  it  were  in 
England  or  France,  would  have  a  special  excursion 
train  to  it  (here  no  one  thinks  anything  about  it)  ;  it 
looked  like  a  huge  rampart,  and  its  smooth  walls  were 
sun-scorched.  After  this  we  passed  a  region  of  coffee 
plantations,  and  thence  to  Entre  Rios  ("  Betwixt  the 
Rivers  "),  the  half-way  house.  It  is  a  very  unhealthy 
station,  and  there  is  a  dreadful  smell  of  bad  water  ; 
otherwise  it  would  be  a  first-rate  place  for  any  one 
wanting  to  speculate  in  starting  a  hotel.  The  last 
ten  miles  before  coming  to  Entre  Rios  lay  through 
virgin  forest.  We  saw  tucanos  (birds  with  big  beaks 
and  gorgeous  plumage  of  black,  green,  scarlet,  and 
orange),  wonderful  trees,  orange  groves,  bamboos  (most 
luxuriant;  they  would  grow  on  a  box  if  they  were 
thrown  at  it),  plants  of  every  kind,  coffee  and  sugar- 


276      Ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xao£  JSurton 

cane  plantations,  tobacco  plants,  castor-oil  plants, 
acacias,  and  mimosa.  What  invariably  attracts  the 
English  eye,  accustomed  to  laurel  and  holly,  are  the 
trepaderas  ;  and  the  masses  of  bamboo  form  natural 
arches  and  festoons,  and  take  every  fantastic  form. 
We  crossed  the  rivers  over  bridges  of  iron. 

We  breakfasted  at  noon  at  Entre  Rios  ;  we  then 
mounted  our  char-a-banc  once  more,  and  drove  on 
eight  miles  to  the  next  station,  called  Serraria,  where 
we  sighted  the  province  of  Minas  Geraes  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  valley  of  Parahybuna.  At  Serraria  we  got 
a  wicked  mule,  which  nearly  upset  us  three  times.  A 
wicked  mule  is  a  beau-ideal  fiend  ;  the  way  he  tucks 
his  head  under  his  body  and  sends  all  his  legs  out  at 
once,  like  a  spider,  is  wonderful  to  see  ;  and  when  all 
four  mules  do  it,  it  is  like  a  fancy  sketch  in  Punch. 
They  drive  none  but  wild  mules  along  this  road,  and 
after  three  months  they  sell  them,  for  they  become  too 
tame  for  their  work.  Soon  after  this  last  station  we 
passed  through  the  "  Pumpkin "  chain  of  hills.  We 
had  ten  miles  to  go  uphill,  and  it  was  the  hottest  drive 
of  the  day,  not  only  on  account  of  the  time  of  day, 
but  because  we  were  at  the  base  of  another  huge  granite 
mountain,  much  bigger  than  the  last,  like  a  colossal 
church. 

We  were  not  very  tired  when  we  sighted  Juiz  de 
Fora,  considering  that  we  had  driven  nearly  one 
hundred  miles  in  twelve  hours.  We  drove  up  to  a 
chalet  built  by  the  French  engineers  just  at  sunset, 
and  were  guests  in  an  empty  house,  and  were  well 
lodged.  After  supper  the  moon  was  nearly  full,  and 


©ur  BjpeWtion  into  tbe  Anterior          277 

the  scene  was  lovely.  There  was  a  fine  road ;  nearly 
all  the  buildings  were  on  the  same  side  of  it  as 
our  chalet ;  opposite  us  was  a  chapel,  farther  down 
a  hotel,  and  farther  up,  the  thing  that  made  all  the 
beauty  of  Juiz  de  Fora,  the  house  of  Commendador 
Mariano  Procopio  Ferreira  Lage.  It  appeared  like 
a  castle  on  the  summit  of  a  wooded  mountain.  We 
were  serenaded  by  a  band  of  villagers.  The  evening 
air  was  exquisite,  and  the  moon  made  the  night  as  light 
as  day. 

The  following  day  we  inspected  Juiz  de  Fora.  The 
town  is  a  pretty  situation,  two  thousand  feet  above 
sea-level,  and  the  climate  cool  and  temperate.  The 
wonder  of  the  place  is  the  chateau  of  Commendador 
Mariano  Procopio,  who  is  a  Brazilian  planter  who 
has  travelled,  and  his  wealth  is  the  result  of  his 
energy  and  success.  He  built  this  castle  on  the  top 
of  a  wooded  eminence.  This  land  eight  years  ago 
(I  believe)  was  a  waste  marsh.  He  spent  .£40,000 
on  it,  and  made  a  beautiful  lake,  with  islands,  bridges, 
swans,  and  a  little  boat  paddled  by  negroes  instead 
of  steam.  He  made  mysterious  walks,  bordered  by 
tropical  and  European  plants,  amongst  which  the  most 
striking  to  an  English  eye  were  enormous  arums  with 
leaves  five  feet  long  and  three  broad,  and  acacias,  mimosas, 
umbrella  trees  in  full  flower.  He  also  erected  Chinese- 
looking  arbours,  benches,  and  grotesque  designs  in  wood. 
1  believe  the  man  carries  out  all  his  nightmare  visions 
there.  In  another  part  of  the  grounds  was  a  mena- 
gerie full  of  deer,  moniceys,  emu,  silver  and  gold 
pheasants,  and  Brazilian  beasts  and  birds.  He  has 


278      Ube  IRomance  ot  Isabel  Xat>g  JSurton 

an  aqueduct  to  his  house  and  fountains  everywhere. 
There  is  an  especially  beautiful  fountain  on  the  highest 
point  of  Juiz  de  Fora,  in  the  centre  of  his  grounds, 
and  from  there  is  a  splendid  view.  There  is  a  white 
cottage  in  his  gardens  for  his  aged  mother.  He  has 
also  an  orangery  of  huge  extent,  different  species  of 
oranges  growing  luxuriantly,  and  we  reclined  on  the  grass 
for  an  hour  picking  and  eating  them.  All  the  land 
around  was  his ;  he  built  the  chapel ;  even  our  chalet 
was  his  property  ;  and  besides  he  has  a  model  farm. 
Altogether  Juiz  de  Fora  appeared  a  thriving  town, 
and  the  Commendador  was  the  pivot  on  which  it 
all  moved.  It  seemed  so  strange  to  find  in  the 
interior  of  Brazil  a  place  like  that  of  an  English 
gentleman.  One  cannot  give  this  generous  and  enter- 
prising planter  enough  praise.  If  there  were  more 
like  him,  Brazil  would  soon  be  properly  exploited. 
Some  object  that  the  arrangement  of  his  place  is 
too  fantastic.  There  is  no  doubt  it  is  fantastic,  but 
it  is  so  because  he  is  giving  the  natives  a  model  of 
everything  on  a  tiny  scale,  and  collecting  in  addition 
his  native  tropical  luxuriance  around  him,  as  an  English 
gentleman  would  delight  to  collect  things  on  his  estate, 
if  he  could  get  the  same  vegetation  to  grow  in 
England. 

On  leaving  Juiz  de  Fora,  I  was  obliged  to  leave 
my  baggage  behind,  which  appeared  to  me  rather 
unreasonable,  as  it  only  consisted  of  the  usual  little 
canisters,  a  pair  of  long,  narrow  boxes  for  the  mule's 
back.  If  the  ladies  who  travel  with  big  baskets  the 
size  of  a  small  cottage  had  seen  my  tiny  bundle  and 


©ur  Expedition  into  tbe  Anterior          279 

a  little  leather  case  just  big  enough  for  brush,  comb, 
and  a  very  small  change,  they  would  have  pitied  me. 
We  mounted  the  coach  on  a  cold,  raw  morning — this 
time  a  public  coach.  Only  one  man  of  our  party 
accompanied  us  on  to  Barbacena  ;  the  rest  were 
homeward  bound.  The  two  coaches  stood  side  by 
side,  ready  packed,  facing  different  ways,  at  6  a.m.,  to 
start  at  the  same  moment.  We  had  a  small,  strong 
coach  with  four  mules.  A  handsome,  strapping 
German  youth,  named  Godfrey,  was  our  driver,  and 
we  boasted  a  good  guard.  Inside  was  a  lady  with 
negresses  and  babies,  and  an  Austrian  lieutenant. 
Outside  on  a  dicky  my  negret  and  a  large  number 
of  small  packages — only  such  could  go.  The  driver 
and  guard  were  in  front,  and  above  and  behind  them 
on  the  highest  part  of  the  coach  was  a  seat  for  three, 

which  held    Richard,  Mr.  E ,  and  myself  in  the 

middle,  the  warmest  and  safest  place  in  event  of  a 
spill.  The  partings  ensued  between  the  two  coaches, 
and  the  last  words  were, "  Remember  by  twelve  o'clock 
we  shall  be  a  hundred  miles  apart."  The  horn 
sounded  ;  there  was  the  usual  fling  of  mules'  heads 
and  legs  in  the  air,  and  we  made  the  start  as  if  we 
had  been  shot  out  of  a  gun.  We  proceeded  on  our 
drive  of  sixty-six  miles  in  twelve  hours,  including 
stoppages,  constantly  changing  mules,  for  the  roads 
between  Juiz  de  Fora  and  Barbacena  were  infamous,  and 
all  up  and  down  hill.  The  country  was  very  poor  in 
comparison  with  what  we  had  left  behind,  but  I  should 
have  admired  it  if  I  had  not  seen  the  other.  The  road- 
sides are  adorned  with  quaint  pillars,  mounds  of  yellow 


280      tlbe  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xa&p  JSurton 

clay,  the  palaces  of  the  cupims,  or  white  ants,  which  they 
are  said  to  desert  when  finished.  They  must  be  very 
fond  of  building.  The  sabia  (the  Brazilian  nightingale) 
sang  loud  in  the  waving  tops  of  the  "  roast-fish  tree." 
We  passed  over  wooded  hills,  broad  plains,  and  across 
running  streams  and  small  falls.  At  last  we  reached 
the  bottom  of  the  great  Serra  Mantiqueira.  The  ascent 
was  very  bad  and  steep  for  ten  miles,  and  through  a 
Scotch  mist  and  rain.  All  the  men  had  to  get  down 
and  walk,  and  even  so  we  often  stuck  in  deep  mud- 
holes,  and  appeared  as  if  we  were  going  to  fall  over  on 
one  side.  I  now  comprehended  why  my  baggage  could 
not  come  ;  my  heart  ached  for  the  mules.  Travelling 
on  the  top  of  that  coach  was  a  very  peculiar  sensation. 
When  we  were  on  plain  ground  and  in  full  gallop  we 
heaved  to  and  fro  as  if  in  a  rolling  sea,  and  when  going 
fast  it  was  like  a  perpetual  succession  of  buck-jumping, 
especially  over  the  caldeiroes^  lines  of  mud  like  a 
corduroy  across  the  road.  On  the  descent  our  coach- 
man entertained  us  with  a  history  of  how  he  once  broke 
his  legs  and  the  guard  his  ribs  and  the  whole  coach 
came  to  grief  at  that  particular  spot. 

Our  next  station  (and  it  seemed  so  far)  was  Nas- 
cisuento  Novo ;  then  came  Registro  Velho,  where 
travellers  used  to  be  searched  for  gold  and  diamonds, 
and  amusing  stories  are  told  how  they  used  to  conceal 
them  in  their  food  or  keep  them  in  their  mouths. 
Here  we  had  our  last  change  of  mules,  and  here  the 
Morro  Velho  Company  from  the  mines  halted  for  the 
night,  and  we  found  to  our  delight  that  we  should  find 
a  special  troop  of  them  waiting  at  Barbacena  to  convey 


©ur  Ejpeoition  into  tbe  Sntertor          281 

us  where  we  liked.  This  was  our  last  league,  and  the 
weather  was  frosty. 

We  arrived  at  the  Barbacena  hotel  when  it  was  dusk, 
and  found  it  a  decent  but  not  luxurious  inn,  kept  by 
an  unfortunate  family  named  Paes.  At  the  door  we 
saw  a  good-humoured  Irish  face,  which  proved  to  be 
that  of  our  master  of  the  horse,  Mr.  James  Fitzpatrick, 
of  the  Morro  Velho  Company,  who  was  awaiting 
Richard  and  myself  with  two  blacks  and  ten  animals. 
We  therefore  asked  for  one  of  the  spare  mules  and 

saddles  for  Mr.  E ,  who  had  decided  to  accompany 

us  to  the  mines.  The  town  appeared  quite  deserted, 
but  I  thought  it  was  because  it  was  dark  and  cold 
and  the  people  were  all  dining  or  supping.  We  were 
tired,  and  went  to  bed  directly  after  dinner. 

Next  day  we  inspected  Barbacena,  a  white  town  upon 
an  eminence.  The  town  is  built  in  the  form  of  a 
cross,  the  arms  being  long.  It  is  three  thousand  eight 
hundred  feet  above  sea-level,  and  is  very  cold  except  in 
the  sun.  There  was  little  to  see  except  four  churches, 
all  poor  and  miserable  except  the  Matriz,  which  was 
the  usual  whitewashed  barn  with  a  few  gaudy  figures. 
It  was  a  dead-alive  kind  of  place,  with  all  the  houses 
shut  up  and  to  be  bought  for  very  little.  All  the  young 
men  were  gone  to  the  war.  There  was  no  one  about : 
no  society,  not  even  a  market;  no  carriage  save  the 
public  coach,  with  its  skeleton  horses  eating  the  grass 
in  the  streets. 

After  dinner  that  evening  we  saw  a  black  corpse 
on  a  stretcher.  The  porters  were  laughing  and 
talking  and  merrily  jolting  it  from  side  to  side, 


282      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 

and  I  was  considered  rather  sentimental  for  calling  it 
disrespect  to  the  dead.  Our  table  d'hote  was  a  motley 
and  amusing  group.  There  were  the  driver  and  guard 
of  our  coach,  the  Austrian  lieutenant,  ourselves, 
several  Brazilians,  and  Mr.  Fitzpatrick.  We  all  got 
on  together  very  well.  There  was  some  punch  made  ; 
and  as  the  conversation  turned  upon  mesmerism  for 
that  night's  discussion,  a  delicate  subject,  I  withdrew 
to  a  hard  couch  in  an  inner  room. 

On  Wednesday,  June  19,  we  left  the  last  remnant 
of  civilization  behind  us  at  Barbacena,  and  that 
remnant  was  so  little  it  should  not  be  called  by  that 
name.  We  shall  now  not  see  a  carriage  for  some 
months,  nor  a  road  that  can  be  called  a  road,  but 
must  take  to  the  saddle  and  the  bridle  for  the  country. 

Our  party  consisted  of  Richard  and  myself  Mr.  E , 

Mr.  James  Fitzpatrick,  captain  of  our  stud,  Chico, 
my  negret,  mounted,  and  two  slaves  on  foot  as  guides, 
three  cargo  mules,  and  two  spare  animals  as  change. 

Our  first  ride  was  to  be  twenty  miles,  or  five  leagues, 
across  country.  We  did  it  in  five  hours,  and  one 
more  half-hour  we  employed  in  losing  our  way.  The 
country  was  poor,  and  through  what  is  called  campos 
— i.e.  rolling  plains,  with  a  coarse  pasturage.  Near 
dusk  we  reached  Barroso,  a  village  with  a  ranch,  a 
small  chapel,  and  a  few  huts.  The  ranch  was  small 
and  dirty,  and  smelt  of  tropeiros  (muleteers)  and 
mules.  The  ranch  was  a  shed-like  cottage  with  a 
porch  or  verandah.  It  had  one  room  with  a  ceiling 
of  bamboo  matting,  whitewashed  mud  walls,  no 
window,  and  a  mud  floor.  The  only  thing  in  it  was 


BrpeMtion  into  tbe  Anterior          283 

a  wooden  bedstead  without  a  bed  on  it.  This  was 
ours ;  the  rest  had  to  sleep  in  the  verandah  or  on  the 
floor  with  rugs  amongst  the  fropeiros,  picturesque- 
looking  muleteers.  They  gave  us  rice,  chicken,  and 
beans.  I  prepared  the  food  and  slung  the  hammocks, 
and  after  eating  we  lay  ourselves  down  to  rest. 

We  rose  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  before  it 
was  light,  and  at  4.30  we  were  in  our  saddles  again. 
We  rode  twenty-four  miles.  We  breakfasted  under 
a  hedge  at  a  place  written  "Elvas,"  pronounced 
"  Hervas,"  and  got  a  cup  of  coffee  from  a  neighbouring 
gypsy  camp.  Shortly  after  we  passed  a  ranch,  with  a 
curious  old  arched  bridge  made  of  wood.  To-day's 
journey  was  very  like  yesterday's  in  point  of  country, 
but  we  were  a  little  tired  the  last  few  miles,  as  we 
had  been  somewhat  dilatory,  and  had  been  eight  hours 
in  hard  saddles  on  rough  animals ;  the  sun  also  broke 
out  very  hot.  At  last,  however,  we  were  cheered  by 
arriving  at  a  pretty  village,  and  shortly  afterwards 
sighted  a  beautiful-looking  town  on  a  hill,  with  many 
spires.  We  rode  up  to  the  bridge  to  enter  the  town, 
tired,  hot,  torn,  and  dusty,  just  as  the  procession  of 
the  Blessed  Sacrament  was  passing,  followed  by  the 
friars  and  a  military  band.  We  bent  our  heads  and 
bowed  down  to  the  saddle.  This  was  the  town  of 
Sao  Joao  d'El  Rei,  and  it  was  the  Feast  of  Corpus 
Christi. 

Sao  Joao  d'El  Rei  is  five  thousand  two  hundred  feet 
above  sea-level.  It  was  June  21  (here  the  shortest  as 
in  England  it  is  the  longest  day),  and  the  climate  was 
delicious.  We  met  two  English  faces  in  the  streets, 


284      ftbe  "Romance  of  3sabel  SLaog  Burton 

and  hailed  them  at  once.  They  proved  to  be  Mr. 
Charles  Copsey,  who  had  been  at  Cambridge  with  my 
husband's  brother,  in  command  of  the  Brazilian  Rifle 
Volunteer  Brigade  (I  knew  many  of  the  same  men), 
and  Dr.  Lee,  a  man  of  Kent.  Dr.  Lee  had  been 
there  thirty-five  years.  These  two  compatriots  were 
most  kind  to  us.  They  introduced  us  to  all  the  best 
families,  and  showed  us  all  the  lions  of  the  place. 

The  churches  of  Sao  Joao  were  so  numerous  that 
we  only  "  did  "  the  three  best.  We  walked  about  the 
principal  streets,  getting  the  best  views  of  the  white, 
spiral,  hilly,  little  city,  which  looked  beautiful  at 
sunset.  We  visited  one  Brazilian's  general  collection, 
another's  books,  another's  pictures,  and  the  only  place 
we  did  not  go  to  see  was  the  hospital.  We  loafed 
about,  and  everybody  dined  with  us  at  the  hotel — very 
little  better  than  a  ranch. 

We  left  our  hotel,  or  rather  ranch,  at  10.30  a.m. 
the  next  morning,  and  rode  to  Matosinhos,  the  suburb 
at  the  entrance,  where  we  breakfasted  at  the  house  of 
Dr.  Lee  and  made  the  acquaintance  of  his  Brazilian 
wife,  a  sweet-mannered  woman,  whose  kindness  and 
hospitality  charmed  us.  After  a  sumptuous  breakfast 
we  walked  about  his  grounds,  and  he  gave  us  a  cac 
de  felay  an  ugly,  toad-coloured,  long  dog,  with  a  big 
head,  broad  shoulders,  and  lanky  body,  answering  in 
breed  to  our  bull-dog. 

Here  Mr.  Copsey  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to 
part  with  us  so  soon,  and  actually  forsook  his  wife 
and  children  and  cottage  to  accompany  us  for  a  few 
days. 


©ur  Expedition  into  tbe  Anterior          285 

Our  ride  was  a  pretty  easy  two  leagues,  or  eight 
miles,  over  mountains,  bringing  us  to  a  small  white 
village  or  town,  which  we  should  call  a  village,  nestled 
among  them,  called  Sao  Jose.  This  village  contains  a 
running  brook,  a  bridge,  and  a  handsome  fountain.  Our 
ranch  was  a  miserable  affair,  without  any  pretension  to 
bedding,  and  if  possible  less  to  a  washing-basin ;  so  the 
rest  preferred  sitting  up  all  night ;  but  as  my  experi- 
ence has  taught  me  to  take  all  the  little  comforts  that 
Providence  throws  to  me,  in  order  to  endure  the  more, 
I  slung  my  hammock  and  slept  the  sleep  of  good 
conscience,  in  spite  of  the  clinking  of  glasses  and 
twanging  of  guitars. 

We  intended  to  leave  Sao  Jose  at  one  o'clock  a.m., 
but  those  who  foolishly  sat  up  had  all  sorts  of  mishaps. 
There  had  been  a  little  too  much  conviviality  ;  the 
animals  had  strayed;  so,  though  we  started  before  light, 
it  was  much  later  than  we  intended.  Our  road  was  a 
terrible  one  ;  we  could  not  keep  together,  and  got  lost 
in  parties  of  two  and  three.  At  first  the  road  was  very 
pretty,  through  woods  ;  but  as  dawn  appeared  we  had  to 
climb  a  wall  of  steep  rock,  terrible  to  climb  and  worse 
to  descend.  Two  of  our  party  unwillingly  vacated 

their  saddles  before  we  got  clear  of  it,  and  Mr.  E 's 

saddle  slipped  off  behind  from  the  steepness  and  bad 
girths.  We  then  had  a  long  ride  over  campos,  and 
stopped  to  breakfast  at  a  deserted  ranch.  We  were 
then  supposed  to  be  about  twelve  miles  from  our 
destination,  Lagoa  Dourada.  The  rest  of  our  day  was 
full  of  misfortunes.  The  valiant  people  who  would 
dance  and  drink  all  night  dropped  asleep  upon  the 


286      zrbe  Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JSurton 

road.  We  lost  our  way  for  six  miles,  and  had  to  ride 
back  and  take  another  track.  Our  black  guides  had 
not  laid  a  branch  across  the  road  for  us.  (It  is  an 
African  custom  to  place  a  twig  or  branch  on  the  road, 
to  convey  any  intelligence  to  those  who  are  coming 
after  you.)  We  came  to  a  Slough  of  Despond,  a  mud- 
hole  across  the  road,  which  looked  only  a  little  wet 
and  dirty,  but  a  mule  or  rider  may  be  engulfed  in  it. 
Mr.  Fitzpatrick  luckily  preceded  me,  and  fell  into  it. 
My  mule  jumped  it,  and  in  the  jump  my  pistol  fell  out 
of  my  belt  into  it,  and  was  never  seen  more.  We  had 
a  very  hard  day  of  it  up  and  down  hill  through  virgin 
forest  with  several  of  these  swamps.  At  sunset  we 
arrived  very  tired  at  the  top  of  a  hill,  and  found  an 
aboriginal-looking  settlement  of  huts.  We  then  de- 
scended into  the  valley  by  a  steep,  winding  road  for 
some  distance,  and  came  to  a  long,  straggling,  hilly, 
but  pretty  and  more  civilized  village,  with  a  few 
churches  and  a  running  brook,  with  a  decent  ranch  at 
its  extreme  end,  where  there  was  a  party  of  English 
engineers,  who  kindly  attended  to  our  creature  comforts 
while  at  Lagoa  Dourada. 

It  was  Sunday,  the  Eve  of  St.  John,  and  there  were 
big  bonfires  and  a  village  band.  Our  ranch  was  a 
cottage.  The  brook  with  the  gold-washings  ran  by 
it,  and  the  purling  thereof  made  pleasant  music  that 
night. 

The  great  object  of  our  visit  to  Lagoa  Dourada 
was  to  see  with  disinterested  eyes  which  course  the 
continuation  of  the  Dom  Pedro  Segunda  Railway 
should  run  through  Minas — that  is,  to  see  which  course 


©ur  Ejpe&ition  into  tbe  Anterior          287 

would  be  for  the  greatest  public  advantage,  regard- 
less of  private  intrigue.  The  English  engineers  and 
Richard  having  quite  agreed  upon  the  subject,  they 
kindly  invited  us  to  celebrate  the  Feast  of  St.  John 
by  assisting  to  "Jay  the  first  chain."  It  was  a  day 
likely  to  be  remembered  by  the  Brazilians,  for  it 
connoted  their  pet  feast — the  "  Feast  of  Fire  " — and 
the  commencement  of  a  work  to  be  of  great  benefit 
to  them. 

At  twelve  o'clock  (noon)  the  next  day  the  English 
engineers,  with  a  party  comprising  all  the  Brazilian 
swells  of  Lagoa  Dourada,  proceeded  to  a  valley  within 
the  village  to  lay  the  first  chain  for  the  exploration 
of  the  mountains  which  divide  the  watershed  of  the 
Rio  Sao  Francisco  and  the  Paraopeba  from  the 
Carandahy  and  Rio  Grande,  for  the  prolongation  of 
the  Dom  Pedro  Segunda  Railway. 

I  had  the  honour  of  giving  the  first  blow  to 
the  stake  and  breaking  a  bottle  of  wine  over  it. 
The  sights  taken  were  S.  73°  W.  and  N.  74°  W.  The 
engineers  made  me  write  this  in  their  books.  (The 
following  day  all  were  to  break  up,  our  party  of 
engineers  bound  northward,  and  ourselves  on  our 
march.)  The  inauguration  passed  off"  very  favourably. 
It  was  a  beautiful  day.  The  village  band  played, 
flags  were  flying,  wine  was  produced,  glasses  clinked, 
and  we  drank  the  health  of  <c  The  Emperor,"  "  The 
Queen,"  "  Brazil,"  « England,"  "Unity,"  "Future 
Railway,"  and  most  of  the  principal  people  present  ; 
speeches  were  made,  and  vivas  shouted,  and  last  the 
Brazilians  proposed  the  health  of  St.  John  with  vivas. 


288      Ube  iRomance  of  -Jsabel  Xaog  Burton 

When  these  ceremonies  were  over,  we  marched  back 
to  the  ranch  with  the  band  playing  and  colours  flying. 

In  the  afternoon  we  walked  a  little  way  up  and  down 
the  stream,  and  saw  some  gold- washing  on  a  homoeo- 
pathic scale.  The  land  belongs  to  a  Brazilian,  who 
gets  three  or  four  milreis  a  day  out  of  it  (about 
eight  shillings).  We  then  sat  down  in  the  village 
on  benches  in  the  shade.  The  men  drank  beer  and 
smoked  cigarettes,  and  I  took  my  needlework  and 
talked  with  them. 

In  the  evening  the  English  engineers  gave  us  a 
big  dinner  in  the  ranch,  and  how  they  managed  to 
do  it  so  well  I  cannot  imagine.  It  was  like  a  big 
picnic.  The  village  padre  sat  at  the  head  of  the  long 
wooden  table,  and  I  at  the  bottom,  and  on  wooden 
benches  at  each  side  were  eight  Englishmen  and  seven- 
teen Brazilian  local  magnates.  We  had  chickens, 
messes  of  rice  and  meat,  feijao  (beans)  and  farinha 
(flour),  bread,  cheese,  beer,  port,  and  other  drinks — 
all  out  of  the  engineers'  stores.  It  was  great  fun. 
Directly  after  dinner  they  began  speechifying,  and  each 
man  ended  his  speech  with  a  little  nasal  stanza  to 
friendship,  the  audience  taking  up  the  last  word.  At 
last  somebody  drank  the  health  of  the  married  men, 
and  then  some  one  else  proposed  the  health  of  the 
single,  and  then  every  one  began  to  quarrel  as  to  which 
was  the  better  and  happier  state.  Richard  and  Mr. 
Copsey  loudly  stood  up  for  the  single,  and  urged 
them  on  to  greater  frenzy,  and  I  would  have  done 
the  same  thing  only  I  was  afraid  of  shocking  the 
padre.  The  wordy  war  lasted  fully  half  an  hour, 


©ur  BjpeMtton  into  tbe  Anterior          289 

and  terribly  distressed  one  spoony  Englishman,  who 
gave  us  a  homily  from  his  corner  on  the  sanctity  of 
the  married  state.  If  it  had  been  in  France,  there 
would  have  been  half-a-dozen  duels,  and  I  fully  ex- 
pected to  see  some  kniving  ;  but  with  them  it  was 
only  hilarity  and  good  spirits,  and  they  embraced 
across  the  table  at  the  very  moment  I  thought  they 
were  going  to  hit  one  another.  We  finished  up  by 
repairing  to  our  room  and  having  some  punch  there, 
and  we  all  parted  happy  and  pleased  with  our  day. 
After  we  were  in  bed  we  were  serenaded  by  the  band. 
The  people  walked  about  with  music,  and  twanged 
their  guitars  all  night.  It  is  a  great  day  for  marriage 
— for  lovers,  and  all  that  sort  of  pleasant  thing.  The 
girls  dress  in  their  best,  and  put  the  flowers  of  Sao 
Joao  in  their  hair,  and  one  likes  to  see  the  young 
people  happy.  A  pleasant  remembrance  of  this  place 
lingers  with  me  yet. 

The  next  morning  we  proposed  starting  at  four 
o'clock,  and  got  up  early.  Our  white  horse,  however, 
knew  the  ground,  and  strayed  six  miles  away,  so  we 
could  not  start  till  9  a.m.  Moreover,  Mr.  Copsey, 
who  was  on  duty  at  Sao  Joao  d'El  Rei  for  next  day, 
was  obliged  to  wish  us  good-bye  and  return. 

When  at  last  we  started,  we  rode  for  two  leagues 
and  a  hal£  accompanied  by  several  of  our  friends  of 
the  evening  before,  and  at  last  came  to  a  brook,  where 
we  sat  under  the  shade  of  a  tree  and  breakfasted,  after 
which  our  friends  wished  us  good-bye  and  returned. 
We  then  rode  on,  uncertain  as  to  our  course.  The 
scenery  was  pretty  ;  the  weather  was  very  hot.  We 

'9 


290      Ztbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  3Burton 

had  no  road,  but  found  our  way  over  the  hills  through 
bits  of  forest,  and  towards  evening  we  came  to  a 
village  called  Camapoao. 

We  had  been  detained  by  bad  road  and  accidents, 
and  had  been  five  hours  doing  only  fifteen  miles ;  so, 
though  we  could  only  find   an    infamous  ranch   (the 
worst  we  had  ever  seen),  we  thought  it  best  to  risk 
it  for  the  night.     We  had  been  obliged  to  pass  one 
by,  as  it  looked  really  dangerous  with  damp,  filth,  and 
reptiles.     The  owner  of  the  ranch,  one  Jose  Antonio 
d'Azevedo,  was  a  character,   and   a   very    bad   one — 
original     in    rudeness,    independence,    and    suspicion. 
There  was  not  a  basin  or  any  kind  of  cooking-pot, 
nor  a  fire  nor  hot  water.     There  was,  however,  one 
bed  (Jose's),    and  no   amount  of  entreaty  to  let  me 
rest  my  aching  limbs  on  it  would  induce  him  to  allow 
me  to  do  so.     I  had  almost  to  go  on  my  knees  to  be 
allowed  to  swing  my  hammock,  lest  I  should  spoil  his 
mud-and-stick  walls  ;  but  after  a  glass  of  cognac  from 
our  stock   and   much   flattering  and  coaxing,  he   did 
permit   that,  and   gave  us  some  beans  and  flour,  rice 
and  onions,  to  eat.     Richard  slept  on  a  wooden  table, 
I  in   the   hammock,  and  the  rest  of  our  party   with 
the   mules   on    the   ground   round   a   fire.     It   was  a 
bitterly   cold  night,   and  we  got  full  of  vermin.     At 
about  one  in  the  morning  I  was  aroused   by  a  loud 
whispering,  apparently   close  to  my  head,  and  a  low 
growl  from   my   dog   underneath  my   hammock,  and 
I  could  distinctly  hear  the  old  man  say,  "  Pode  facil- 
mente  matar  a  todas  "  ("  It  would  be  very  easy  to  kill 
the   whole  lot  ").     I   felt    quite   cold  and  weak  with 


©ut  Espefcition  into  tbe  -Jntertor          291 

fright;  but  I  stretched  out  my  hand  in  the  dark  to 
where  I  knew  my  weapons  were,  and  got  hold  of  a 
bowie-knife  and  loaded  revolver.  I  then  whispered 
to  Richard,  and  we  got  some  matches  and  struck  a 
light.  There  was  no  one  in  the  room,  and  the 
whispering  and  laughing  still  went  on  as  if  the  old 
man  and  his  negroes  were  conversing  and  joking 
behind  the  thin  partition  wall.  Nothing  occurred. 
In  the  morning  we  thought  he  was  only  alluding  to 
his  chickens  ;  yet,  as  we  learnt  afterwards,  he  did  bear 
an  ugly  name. 

We  were  very  glad  to  get  up  at  4  a.m.,  though 
pitch  dark,  and  to  set  out.  The  old  man  did  his 
best  to  keep  us  by  talking  of  the  atoleiros  on  the  road, 
which  we  must  pass,  and  were  sure  to  fall  into.  And 
indeed  an  atoleiro  is  an  ugly  thing ;  for  you  only 
expect  a  passage  of  wet  mud  in  the  road,  whereas  you 
and  your  horse  go  plump  in  over  head,  and  sometimes 
do  not  get  out.  We  passed  a  fearful  one  a  mile  past 
his  house,  but  sent  the  blacks  on  first,  and  they 
brought  us  a  long  round  through  brushwood,  which 
was  not  dangerous,  but  unpleasant  to  fight  through  ; 
and  Chico  stuck  in  it,  and  we  were  fully  ten  minutes 
extricating  him.  We  then  rode  up  and  down  moun- 
tains and  waded  several  rivers,  and  moonlight  passed 
away,  and  dawn  came  with  a  welcome.  By  nine 
o'clock  we  had  accomplished  twelve  miles,  and  arrived 
at  Suasuhy,  a  long,  big  village,  with  a  church  and  about 
three  hundred  houses  and  fifteen  hundred  inhabitants. 
We  were  quite  overcome  with  the  luxury  of  being 
able  to  wash  our  hands  and  faces  in  a  basin.  We 


392      ftbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcg  JSurton 

had  too  a  better  breakfast  than  usual.  The  ranch 
was  kept  by  a  handsome  family — father,  mother,  and 
four  daughters.  After  this  we  rode  on  again  through 
beautiful  scenery  up  and  down  mountains,  through 
shallow  rivers  and  bits  of  virgin  forest.  Yet,  though 
the  scenery  is  magnificent,  it  is  so  alike,  that  one 
description  describes  all,  and  what  you  see  to-day 
you  will  to-morrow  and  for  the  next  three  months, 
with  the  exception  of  every  here  and  there  a  startling 
feature.  After  another  three  leagues  we  sighted  the 
Serra  d'Ouro  Branco,  a  grand  pile  of  rock,  and 
presently  caught  sight  of  a  convent  and  a  large  square 
and  church  seated  on  an  eminence  below  the  mountain. 
We  were  descending.  We  turned  a  corner  down  a 
steep,  stone  hill,  and  beheld  a  beautiful  white  village  in 
the  valley,  and  silvery,  winding  river,  called  Maronhao, 
running  through  it,  and  another  smaller  one  dis- 
charging itself  into  the  larger.  A  striking  church, 
the  Matriz,  rose  on  the  opposite  hill.  In  the  distance 
were  the  two  Serras,  straight  ranges  like  a  wall,  one 
shorter  than  the  other.  Ouro  Branco  is  so  called 
because  the  gold  found  there  was  mixed  with  platina. 
It  was  three  o'clock,  and  we  had  now  travelled  six 
leagues  and  a  half,  and  were  glad  to  rest.  The  sunset 
was  lovely. 

This  village  was  Congonhas  do  Campo.  We  got 
into  a  comfortable  ranch,  and  then  called  on  the  padre. 
That  is  the  best  thing  to  do  at  these  places,  as  he 
is  the  man  who  shows  you  hospitality,  points  out 
the  lions,  and  introduces  you  and  gives  you  all  the 
information  you  want.  The  padre  showed  us  great 


©ur  BjpeDitton  into  tbe  Anterior          293 

kindness,  and  took  us  to  see  the  college  and  the  church, 
the  most  striking  part  of  the  village  and  valley.  -Walk- 
ing through  the  streets,  we  saw  the  arms  of  some 
noble  Portuguese  family,  well  carved  in  stone,  over 
a  small  deserted  house — doubtless  the  arms  of  some 
of  the  first  colonists. 

The  padre  breakfasted  with  us  at  the  ranch  next 
morning,  and  saw  us  set  out  from  Congonhas  at  twelve 
o'clock.  We  rode  three  leagues,  or  twelve  miles,  which 
seemed  more  like  five,  up  and  down  mountains,  through 
rivers  and  virgin  forests,  and  on  ridges  running  round 
steep  precipices  and  mountain-sides  for  many  a  mile. 
On  our  way  we  met  a  small  white  dog  with  a  black 

ear,  looking  wet  and  tired  and  ownerless.  Mr.  E 

hit  at  it  with  a  hunti:;g-whip  ;  it  did  not  cry  nor  move, 
but  stared  at  our  passing  troop.  Towards  night  we 
arrived  at  a  little  sort  of  private  family  settlement, 
consisting  of  four  or  five  ranches  belonging  to  a  man 
of  the  same  name  as  the  place — to  wit,  Teixeira.  Here 
we  found  the  villagers  in  a  great  state  of  excitement, 
armed  with  guns  to  kill  a  mad  dog,  which  had  been 
rabid  for  some  days,  and  had  bitten  everything  it 
saw,  communicating  the  disease,  and  had  after  all 
escaped  them.  He  was  a  small  white  dog  with  a 
black  ear ! 

We  had  great  difficulty  in  finding  a  night's  rest 
at  Teixeira.  Four  or  five  houses  would  not  take  us 
in.  One  man  was  especially  surly  ;  but  at  last  a  cobbler 
and  his  wife  took  us  in,  and  were  kind  and  hospitable 
to  us.  Here  I  had  a  little  bed  of  sticks  and  straw, 
and  slept  soundly. 


294      ttbe  IRomance  ot  Isabel  3Laop  Burton 

Next  morning  we  had  a  shot  at  a  flock  of  small 
green  parrots  before  starting  for  Coche  d'Agua  at 
8.30,  and  we  rode  till  10.30.  We  crossed  the  Rio 
da  Plata  six  times  (it  was  so  tortuous)  before  nine 
o'clock,  and  twice  the  Bassao  later.  After  crossing 
the  Bassao  the  second  time,  we  sat  under  a  shady 
tree  on  its  banks,  and  ate  our  breakfast  out  of  our 
provision  basket — cold  pork,  onions,  and  biscuit,  and 
drank  from  the  river. 

We  had  been  told  that  the  remainder  of  our  ride 
to  Coche  d'Agua  from  this  spot  was  four  leagues  ; 
but  it  was  nearer  eight  leagues  (thirty-two  miles),  and 
we  arrived  after  dusk  at  6.15.  It  was  a  very  poor 
place ;  there  was  nothing  to  eat,  and  no  beds,  and 
we  were  dead  tired. 

The  people  were  kind,  and  lit  an  enormous  fire 
in  the  centre  of  the  ranch,  and  let  me  lie  down  upon 
their  sleeping-place  till  3  a.m.,  "  because  I  was  a 
Catholic  and  spoke  Portuguese."  It  was  a  slab  of 
wood  with  a  straw  sacking,  and  even  so  I  thought 
it  a  great  luxury.  We  rose  next  morning  at  3.30. 
The  mules  were  called  in,  and  we  rode  four  leagues, 
first  by  moonlight  and  then  dawn.  We  passed  through 
two  valleys,  and  arrived  at  8.45  a.m.  at  another 
settlement.  This  was  the  village  outside  of  the  Morro 
Velho  colony,  and  as  the  bells  rang  nine  we  alighted 
at  the  entrance  of  the  Casa  Grande,  and  were  most 
cordially  and  hospitably  received  by  the  Superintendent 
of  the  Sao  Joao  d'El  Rei  Mining  Company  and  Mrs. 
Gordon,  and  conducted  into  their  most  comfortable 
English  home. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MORRO   VELHO  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS 
(1867) 

Earth's  crammed  with  heaven, 
And  every  common  bush  afire  with  God ; 
But  only  he  who  sees  takes  off  his  shoes; 
The  rest  sit  round  it,  and  pick  blackberries. 

ELIZABETH  BARRETT  BROWNING. 

MORRO  VELHO,  where  is  the  queen  of  the 
Minas  Geraes  Mines,  is  a  very  curious  and 
interesting  place,  unlike  any  other  I  have  seen  in 
Brazil.  It  has  a  good  deal  of  bustle,  life,  and  cheer- 
fulness about  it  which  one  scarcely  sees  elsewhere.  It 
is  an  extensive,  elevated  valley,  surrounded  by  mountains 
and  divided  into  districts  or  settlements,  each  con- 
sisting of  villages  made  up  of  detached  cottages  without 
streets,  after  the  manner  of  most  villages  in  Minas 
Geraes.  Congonhas  must  be  excepted,  as  that  is  a 
regular  village  with  shops  ;  we  passed  through  it  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  gold-mining  colony  ;  although 
it  is  independent  of,  still  it  is  supported  by,  its  wealthy 
neighbour. 

Mr.  Gordon,  the  English  superintendent  of  the  mines, 
was   like  a  local   king   at  Morro  Velho  and  all  over 

295 


296      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcg  SSurton 

the  province.  He  was  consulted  and  petitioned  by 
every  one,  beloved,  respected,  and  depended  upon  ;  in 
short,  a  universal  father  ;  and  well  he  deserved  respect. 

The  first  Sunday  we  were  with  the  Gordons  at  Casa 
Grande  we  witnessed  the  slave  muster  ;  and  when  it 
was  over  the  slaves  gave  us  an  Indian  representation 
of  a  sham  palaver,  war-dance,  and  fight.  They  were 
dressed  in  war-paint  and  feathers.  The  King  and  his 
son  were  enthroned  on  chairs,  and  the  courtiers  came 
and  seated  themselves  around  on  the  grass,  and  the 
attendants  carried  umbrellas.  First  there  was  a  council. 
The  King  was  dissatisfied  with  his  Minister  of  War, 
who  was  seized  and  brought  before  him.  Then  the 
Minister  made  a  speech  in  his  own  praise.  Then  there 
was  a  fight,  in  which  the  Captain  of  War  took  every 
one  prisoner,  and  gave  the  swords  to  the  King.  Then 
the  Minister  was  poisoned  by  the  enemy,  but  cured  by 
a  nut  which  the  King  gave  him.  Then  all  the  captives 
crawled  on  the  ground  like  snakes  to  the  King's  feet 
to  do  him  homage.  The  King's  jesters  were  great 
fun.  They  had  a  gong  and  bells  and  tom-tom,  and 
sang  and  danced  at  the  same  time.  They  danced  a 
curious  step — little  steps  in  which  they  adhered  to  a 
peculiar  time. 

On  Wednesday,  July  10,  we  left  Morro  Velho  for 
a  space  in  light  marching  order.  Mr.  Gordon  wished 
Richard  to  inspect  a  seam  of  ore  of  disputed  substance, 
and  he  organized  a  trip  for  us  to  the  place.  It  was 
to  last  eleven  days,  and  we  were  then  to  return  to 
Morro  Velho.  We  set  out  from  the  Casa  Grande  at 
8.15.  Our  road  was  very  bad,  chiefly  over  moun- 


flborro  Iflelbo  ant)  its  Environs  297 

tains  and  through  rivers,  but  incessantly  up  and  down, 
without  any  repose  of  level  ground. 

We  rode  for  more  than  four  hours,  and  then  stopped 
at  a  village  called  Morro  Vermelho,  where  we  stopped 
an  hour  for  breakfast  and  to  change  animals. 

Our  road  after  this,  till  six  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
lay  through  the  most  exquisite  forests,  but  with  terrible 
footing  for  the  mules — thick,  pudding-like,  wet  mud,  and 
loose,  slippery  stones,  corduroys  of  hard  mud  striping 
some  of  the  most  difficult  places,  where  only  a  sure- 
footed mule  can  tread.  We  stopped,  in  passing,  at  the 
house  of  a  Mr.  Brockenshaw,  an  English  miner.  It  was 
a  tumbledown  ranch,  but  in  the  wildest,  most  desolate, 
and  most  beautiful  spot  imaginable.  The  chief  features 
of  the  scenery  were  mountain-peaks,  virgin  forests,  and 
rivers.  And  oh  the  foliage  of  the  forest !  The  immense 
avenues  of  leafage  looked  like  mysterious  labyrinths, 
with  castles  and  arches  of  ferns  forty  feet  high.  We 
crossed  an  awful  serra  all  in  ruts,  and  full  of  scarped 
rock,  mud-holes,  or  atoleiros  ;  the  highest  point  was  four 
thousand  two  hundred  feet.  Just  as  we  were  at  the 

worst  of  our  difficulties,  and  Mr.  E had  broken 

his  crupper,  we  heard  a  cheery  English  voice  shouting 
behind  us,  "O!  da  casa?"  ("Any  one  at  home?"), 
which  is  what  people  say  in  Brazil  when  they  enter 
a  house  apparently  empty  and  want  to  make  some- 
body hear  at  the  back.  Turning,  we  beheld  a  Scotch 
gentleman  with  a  merry  face  and  snow-white  hair, 
and  a  beard  like  floss  silk  down  to  his  waist.  The 
Brazilians  call  him  *«  O  Padre  Eterno,"  as  he  is  like 
the  picture  of  God  the  Father.  He  was  Mr.  Brown, 


298      TTbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  OLaoy  Burton 

Superintendent  of  the  Cuiaba  Mine.  After  cordial 
greetings  he  joined  our  party. 

We  eventually  arrived  at  Congo  Soco,  the  original 
peat-mining  village,  once  gay  and  rich,  now  worked  out, 
abandoned,  and  poor.  The  river  of  the  same  name  runs 
through  it.  It  was  now  a  little  before  five  o'clock,  and 
we  came  to  a  better  track,  and  rode  on  some  miles 
farther  to  the  house  and  iron  foundry  of  Senhor  Antonio 
Marcos,  the  Ranger  of  Woods  and  Forests,  who  had 
prepared  hospitality  for  us.  We  dismounted  at  six 
o'clock  very  stiff.  We  had  been  nine  hours  and  a 
quarter  in  the  saddle,  and  had  ridden  thirty-two  miles 
of  difficult  country,  which  did  not,  however,  prevent 
us  from  passing  a  merry  evening  with  Mr.  Brown's 
assistance. 

After  a  good  night,  yet  still  aching  from  the  rough 
road,  we  went  out  early  to  see  the  iron  business.  The 
soil  is  a  mixture  of  iacutinga  (iron  and  charcoal), 
and  the  process,  slow  and  primitive,  is  known  as  the 
"  Catalan  process."  We  saw  the  whole  thing  done 
from  beginning  to  end.  We  left  the  foundry  at  10.15, 
and  went  down  the  watershed  of  the  river  Congo  Soco, 
crossing  it  twice,  and  in  an  hour  and  a  quarter  arrived 
at  Sao  Joao  do  Morro  Grande.  Thence  we  rode  to 
Brumado,  a  decayed  village.  Here  we  stopped  for  an 
hour  in  the  great  house  of  the  Commendador  Joao  Alves 
de  Sousa  Continho,  where  we  changed  animals.  This  was 
once  a  gay  and  high  house  in  great  repute.  It  looked 
now  as  if  withered ;  it  has  fallen  into  decay,  and  is 
inhabited  by  the  old  ex-courtier,  once  a  favourite  of 
the  first  Emperor.  We  proceeded  across  the  ridge  to 


/IDotro  IDelbo  an&  its  Environs  299 

the  Santa  Barbara,  or  main  road.  As  we  wound  down 
a  hill,  in  a  somewhat  romantic  spot,  we  espied  descend- 
ing from  the  opposite  height  a  troop  of  people  dressed 
in  black  and  white,  and  my  conventual  eye  at  once 
detected  them  to  be  Sisters  of  Charity.  The  rest  of 
our  party  could  not  make  them  out,  and  were  quite  in 
a  state  of  excitement  at  seeing  these  pilgrims.  We  met 
upon  the  bridge  crossing  the  river.  There  were  eleven 
sisters  and  two  priests,  all  in  religious  habit  and  mounted 
on  poor  hack  mules.  They  were  going  to  form  a  new 
house  at  Dimantina,  there  being  only  one  other  convent 
in  the  interior,  and  that  at  Marianna.  I  recognized 
some  old  friends  amongst  them.  They  presented  a 
very  curious  and  pretty  sight,  as  they  came  round  a 
corner  on  the  mountain-side,  with  their  black  habits 
and  white  bonnets.  After  stopping  and  talking  for  a 
little  while,  we  rode  on,  and  arrived  at  4  p.m.  at  Catas 
Altas,  having  done  twenty  miles  in  five  hours.  Here 
we  called  on  the  padre  and  saw  the  church. 

In  the  evening  the  good  old  padre  came  to  visit  us, 
but  could  not  be  persuaded  to  take  a  glass  of  cham- 
pagne, of  which  we  had  a  bottle  in  the  provision 
basket. 

We  left  Catas  Altas  next  morning  at  6.20,  and 
rode  for  two  miles  till  we  reached  Agua  Quente 
("  hot  water  ").  Here  we  had  to  make  divers  arrange- 
ments. We  stayed  there  less  than  an  hour,  and  rode 
on  to  a  place  about  three  hours'  ride  from  Agua 
Quente,  through  forests  and  a  mountain  ascent,  in  a 
heavy  rain. 

We  eventually  arrived   at   a  piece  of  country  that 


300      TTbe  "Romance  of  -Jsabel  Xaos  JSurton 

appeared  like  a  gigantic  basin  with  a  mountain-ridge 
running  nearly  all  round  it.  The  soil  was  lumpy  and 
ferruginous,  and  covered  with  a  coarse,  high  grass,  and 
very  difficult  of  passage.  At  the  top  of  this  ridge  we 
had  to  ride  till  we  came  successively  to  two  places  with 
small  mountain  torrents,  which  had  sliced  through  the 
rock,  and  the  bits  that  were  broken  away  were  like 
cakes  of  coal.  There  we  had  to  sit  and  breakfast, 
while  Richard  went  to  examine  this  curious  coal  forma- 
tion, which  it  was  supposed  might  some  day  be  valuable. 
This  operation  over,  we  mounted  again,  and  at  about 
one  o'clock  arrived  at  a  little  ranch  called  Moreira. 
We  had  left  one  change  of  mules  and  horses  to  follow 
us,  and  we  missed  them  terribly,  as  we  had  to  ride 
the  same  wretched  animals  all  day. 

Then  Mr.  Gordon,  who  had  accompanied  us  thus 
far,  wished  us  good-bye  for  a  few  days,  as  his  business 
took  him  another  way,  and  we  rode  through  pretty 
woods  to  Inficionado  ("  Infected  "),  twenty-four  miles 
in  all,  and  reached  it  at  3.30.  It  is  a  long  village,  with 
several  ranches  and  a  few  churches,  very  pretty,  but 
remarkable  for  its  number  of  idiots  and  deformities. 

It  was  pleasant  after  the  day's  fatigues  to  sit  by  a 
running  brook  opposite  the  ranch.  The  sun  was  not 
quite  set  yet ;  the  almost  full  moon  was  visible. 

Richard  and  Mr.  E were  sitting  by  the  ranch 

door,  and  herds  of  mules  were  picketed  in  front.  It 
was  a  most  picturesque  scene. 

We  left  Inficionado  next  morning  at  9.30,  and  rode 
along  a  bad  road,  which  reminded  me  of  the  common 
pictures  of  Napoleon  on  an  impossible  horse  crossing 


flDorro  IDelbo  an&  its  Bnvtrons  3°* 

the  Alps.  We  reached  a  ranch  called  Camargos  at 
12.15.  To-day  we  ate  while  riding,  and  did  not  stop; 
the  ride  was  hot  and  steep.  We  never  drew  rein  till 
we  reached  Sant'  Anna,  where  we  expected  friends  to 
take  us  in.  We  had  fortunately  sent  on  a  black 
messenger  with  our  letters  of  introduction,  and  to 
apprise  them  of  our  coming  ;  and  he  ran  to  meet  us 
a  few  hundred  yards  before  we  reached  the  house,  and 
told  us  that  the  owner,  Captain  Treloar,  superintendent 
of  these  mines,  could  not  receive  us,  as  his  wife 
was  dying.  Much  grieved  and  shocked,  we  returned 
to  a  neighbouring  vendha  for  a  few  minutes  to  write 
a  note  of  sympathy  and  apology  for  our  untimely 
intrusion,  and  also  to  consult  as  to  what  we  had 
better  do  with  ourselves,  since  we  had  "  counted  our 
chickens "  prematurely,  certain  of  the  never-failing 
hospitality  of  our  compatriots,  and  had  given  away 
all  our  provisions.  Now  we  were  thrown  on  the  wide 
world  without  so  much  as  a  biscuit.  We  soon  decided 
to  prospect  the  place  we  were  in,  and  then  ride  to 
Marianna,  where  we  had  a  letter  of  introduction  to  a 
Dr.  Mockett.  Sant'  Anna  looked  a  desolate,  dead- 
alive  place,  and  consisted  of  the  Casa  Grande,  or 
Superintendent's  house,  a  chapel  on  the  hill,  a  big 
universal  kitchen,  and  a  hospital.  These  were  the 
only  four  large  buildings ;  but  there  were  plenty  of 
small  white  cottages,  which  looked  like  dots  on  the 
hill,  for  the  English,  and  for  the  black  settlers  a  line 
of  huts.  The  valley,  which  was  pretty,  was  occupied  by 
the  houses,  which  appeared  small  after  Morro  Velho. 
When  we  returned  to  our  vendha,  we  found  waiting 


302      Ubc  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xat>£  JBurton 

for  us  Mr.  Symmonds,  son-in-law  of  Captain  Treloar 
who  insisted  on  our  going  to-morrow  to  his  house. 
He  said  it  was  empty,  all  the  family  being  together 
at  Sant'  Anna  during  their  affliction ;  but  as  he 
kindly  remarked  we  should  be  more  comfortable 
there,  we  agreed,  and  mounted  and  rode  with  him 
along  a  pleasant,  sandy  road — not  track — for  two 
miles  or  more,  till  we  passed  a  pretty  villa  in  the 
centre  of  some  wild-looking  mountains.  There  lived 
Captain  Treloar  and  his  wife  with  a  large  family 
of  nine  daughters,  six  of  whom  were  married,  and 
three  sons.  All  the  men  of  the  family,  sons  and 
sons-in-law,  are  connected  with  the  mine. 

We  had  a  pretty  ride  of  two  miles  more,  and  arrived 
on  the  brink  of  a  height,  and  suddenly  viewed  a 
mass  of  spires  and  domes  in  the  valley  beneath,  which 
we  at  once  knew  was  the  pretty  cathedral  town  of 
Marianna.  We  rode  down  into  it,  and  sent  our 
letter  to  Dr.  Mockett ;  but  he  too  was  absent  attending 
Mrs.  Treloar — a  second  disappointment ;  but  we  found 
a  ranch.  Marianna  has  nine  churches,  a  seminary, 
a  bishop's  palace,  a  convent,  hospital,  college,  and 
orphanage  of  Sisters  of  Charity,  but  no  hotel  save  a 
miserable  ranch.  It  is  a  regular  cathedral  city,  and 
so  dead-alive,  so  un visited  by  strangers,  that  I  suppose 
it  would  not  pay  to  have  one.  Our  fare  was  of  the 
worst  description.  My  feet  stuck  out  of  the  end  of 
my  miserable,  short,  straw  bed,  and  it  was  a  bitterly 
cold  night.  We  sent  round  all  our  letters  of  intro- 
duction ;  but  that  night  no  one  seemed  to  wake  up  to 
the  fact  of  our  arrival. 


IMbo  an&  its  ^Environs  303 

The  next  day,  Sunday,  was  a  wet  and  miserable 
morning.  However,  later  Captain  Treloar's  son-in-law 
came  and  rescued  us,  and  took  us  to  his  house.  This 
was  a  comfortable  English  home,  where  we  found 
nicely  furnished  rooms,  and  were  cheered  with  the 
sight  of  Bass's  ale,  sherry,  and  everything  imaginable 
to  eat  and  drink,  a  piano,  and  plenty  of  books.  We 
did  not  tear  ourselves  away  from  these  luxuries  for 
three  days — from  Sunday  to  Wednesday. 

From  here  we  went  to  visit  the  Passagem  Mine. 
We  changed  our  clothes,  and  each  with  a  lantern  and 
stick  descended  a  steep,  dark,  slippery  tunnel  of  forty- 
five  fathoms  deep — the  caverns  large  and  vaulted,  and 
in  some  places  propped  up  with  beams  and  dripping 
with  water.  The  stone  is  a  mixture  of  quartz  and 
gold.  The  miners  were  all  black  slaves.  They 
were  chanting  a  wild  air  in  chorus  in  time  to  the 
strokes  of  the  hammer.  They  work  with  an  iron 
crowbar  called  a  drill  and  a  hammer,  and  each  one 
bores  away  four  palmes  a  day.  If  they  do  six,  they 
get  paid  for  the  two  over.  They  were  streaming  with 
perspiration,  but  yet  seemed  very  merry.  The  mine 
was  lit  up  with  torches  for  us.  We  then  descended 
thirty-two  fathoms  deeper,  seeing  all  the  different 
openings  and  channels.  To  the  uninitiated  like  myself, 
it  looked  probable  that  the  caverns  of  stone,  apparently 
supported  by  nothing,  would  fall  in.  I  took  down 
my  negret  Chico.  He  showed  great  symptoms  of 
fear,  and  exclaimed,  "  Parece  O  inferno !  "  I  was 
rather  struck  by  the  justice  of  the  observation.  The 
darkness,  the  depth  of  the  caverns,  the  glare  of  the 


304      ftbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

torches  lighting  up  the  black  figures  humming  against 
the  walls,  the  heat  and  want  of  air,  the  horrid  smells, 
the  wild  chant,  reminded  me  of  Dante.  I  wonder 
if  he  took  some  of  his  hells  out  of  a  mine  ? 

Next  day  poor  Mrs.  Treloar  died,  after  fifteen  days 
of  bilious  attack.  In  this  country,  if  you  are  well 
and  strong,  in  good  nerve  and  spirits,  and  can  fight 
your  own  way,  you  do  very  well  ;  but  the  moment 
you  are  sick,  down  with  you,  fall  out  of  the  ranks 
and  die,  unless  you  have  some  one  who  values  your 
life  as  his  own.  But  even  this  could  not  save  poor 
Mrs.  Treloar.  Mr.  Symmonds  requested  Richard,  as 
English  Consul,  to  perform  the  funeral  service,  as  they 
had  no  church,  no  clergyman,  no  burial-ground  ;  so 
they  would  not  distress  her  mind  by  the  knowledge 
that  she  was  dying.  My  husband  seemed  to  have 
been  sent  by  Providence  to  perform  this  sad  affair, 
as  the  English  here  hold  greatly  to  their  consuls 
performing  a  ceremony  in  the  absence  of  a  clergyman. 
The  Treloars  were  to  have  gone  home  to  England 
for  good  the  previous  month,  having  several  of  their 
children  at  school  in  England,  and  only  put  it  off 
for  that  "  little  while "  often  so  fatal  in  the  tropics. 
She  was  buried  on  the  hilltop,  and  was  followed  by 
all  the  men  in  the  neighbourhood,  black  and  white. 
Women  do  not  attend  funerals,  nor  sales,  nor  shops, 
nor  post-offices  in  Brazil.  Richard  read  the  service, 
and  I  was  left  in  charge  of  the  house  and  blacks  while 
they  were  all  absent.  A  little  before  the  funeral  I 
heard  a  tremendous  noise  in  the  kitchen  like  the 
crashing  of  crockery,  black  women  screaming,  and  men 


flDorro  IDelbo  an&  its  Environs  305 

swearing  angry  oaths.  I  ran  in  and  found  two  of 
the  men  kniving  each  other  over  a  piece  of  money 
which  we  had  given  the  servants  for  their  attention 
to  us.  Blood  was  upon  the  ground.  I  rushed  in 
between  them  and  wrenched  their  knives  away,  and 
ordered  them  all  out  upon  the  grass  upon  their  knees, 
and  they  obeyed.  The  funeral  was  now  winding  up  the 
hill  opposite  the  house,  and  I  read  prayers  for  the  dead. 

Directly  after  the  funeral  we  mounted  our  animals 
and  rode  for  six  miles  along  a  pretty  mountainous 
road  to  Ouro  Preto.  We  rode  down  into  the  town 
(which  looked  rather  imposing  from  the  height  we 
viewed  it)  as  the  clock  struck  six.  It  was  now 
dark,  and  we  were  received  into  the  house  of  Com- 
mendador  Paula  Santos,  Director  of  the  Bank,  and 
were  made  very  comfortable. 

Ouro  Preto  is  the  capital  of  Minas  Geraes.  It  is 
by  far  the  most  hilly  town  I  ever  saw ;  walking  up 
and  down  the  streets  is  quite  as  difficult  as  ascending 
and  descending  ladders,  and  there  is  an  equal  danger 
of  falling.  I  think  one  could  throw  a  stone  from  the 
top  of  a  street  to  the  bottom  without  its  touching 
anything  en  route.  The  President  of  the  Province 
lives  here,  and  has  a  white  palace  like  a  little  fortress. 
There  is  a  small  theatre,  a  bank,  two  tramways  (one 
provincial  and  one  imperial),  a  prison  and  large  police 
barrack,  a  townhall,  several  carved  stone  fountains,  and 
fifteen  churches.  We  found  the  one  usual  English 
family,  a  general  shopkeeper  and  watchmaker,  with  a 
wife  and  children,  brother  and  sister.  They  were  very 
hospitable.  We  stayed  here  two  days. 

20 


306      trbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  %at>£  JSurton 

We  left  Ouro  Preto  at  9.40  on  Saturday  morning, 
and  rode  along  a  neither  very  good  nor  very  bad 
road,  with  fine  mountain  scenery,  and  the  wind  rather 
too  cool.  We  were  now  turning  our  faces  back  again 
towards  Morro  Velho.  We  followed  the  course  of 
the  river,  riding  in  the  dry  bed.  We  arrived  at 
Casa  Branca  (a  few  ranches)  at  1.15,  and  came  up 
with  a  party  of  American  immigrants.  Here  we  only 
changed  animals,  and  mounted  again  at  two  o'clock, 
as  we  had  a  long,  weary  ride  facing  wind  and  rain 
on  the  mountain-tops.  We  at  last  arrived  at  the 
house  of  Mr.  Treloar  (brother  of  the  Mr.  Treloar  of 
Sant'  Anna).  Here  we  hoped  to  find  hospitality  ; 
but  he  too  was  in  affliction,  so  we  rode  on  to  Rio 
das  Pedras,  and  dismounted  at  3  p.m.  The  hamlet 
was  a  few  huts  and  a  burnt-down  church.  We  luckily 
got  in  fifteen  minutes  before  the  Americans,  and 
secured  some  rough  beds  and  food.  Here  we  had 
an  amusing  evening  with  the  immigrants.  They  were 
an  old  father  with  an  oldish  daughter,  two  young 
married  couples,  and  one  stray  man,  one  old,  grey- 
haired,  swallowed-tailed  gentleman,  and  a  young  woman 
with  a  lot  of  chicks.  They  were  wandering  about  in 
search  of  land  to  settle  down  and  be  farmers,  and 
were  amusing,  clever,  and  intelligent. 

Richard  awoke  us  at  3  a.m.  It  rained  in  torrents 
all  night,  and  there  was  a  succession  of  bad  storms 
of  thunder  and  lightning  ;  so  I  was  very  loath  to  get 
up.  But  whether  I  liked  it  or  not  I  was  ordered 
to  mount  at  6  a.m. 

We  had  a  long,  muddy,  rainy,  weary,  up  and  down 


/l&orro  IDelbo  ano  its  Environs  307 

hill  ride,  slipping  back  two  steps  for  every  one  forward, 
and  going  downhill  much  faster  than  we  wished, 
which  made  the  journey  appear  double  the  distance. 
After  eight  miles  we  arrived  at  our  old  sleeping-place 
on  the  borders  of  Morro  Velho,  Coche  d'Agua.  The 
old  people  were  gone,  and  the  new  ones  were  not  very 
civil,  and  we  had  great  difficulty  in  getting  even  a  cup 
of  coffee.  We  had  some  amusement  coming  along. 

Mr.  E was  strongly  in  favour  of  riding  with  a  loose 

rein.  We  were  scaling  a  greasy  hill,  and  his  animal, 
after  slithering  about  several  minutes,  fell  on  its 
stomach.  Chico  and  I  dismounted,  for  our  beasts 
couldn't  stand  ;  but  when  we  were  off  neither  could  we. 

Mr.  E 's  mule  got  up  and  ran  away;  and  Richard, 

through  wicked  fun,  though  safe  at  the  top,  would  not 
catch  it.  Chico's  mule  was  only  donkey  size.  Mr. 

E jumped  upon  it,  and  being  tall  he  looked  as  if  he 

were  riding  a  dog  and  trailing  his  legs  on  the  ground. 
He  rode  after  his  mule  and  caught  it  in  half  an  hour, 
and  we  were  all  right  again. 

From  Coche  d'Agua  next  morning  we  rode  on  to 
Morro  Velho,  and  found  the  church  bells  ringing,  and 
pretty  girls  with  sprays  of  flowers  in  their  hair 
going  to  hear  M  iss.  I  was  not  allowed  to  go,  so  I 
paid  two  old  women  to  go  and  hear  Mass  for  me, 
much  to  the  amusement  of  the  party.  We  breakfasted 
by  the  roadside,  and  rode  into  Morro  Velho  and  to 
the  Gordons.  The  journey,  though  only  twenty-four 
miles,  had  been  long  and  tedious  on  account  of  the  rain 
and  mud  and  constant  steep  ascents  and  descents.  We 
arrived  looking  like  wet  dogs  at  our  kind  host's  door  ; 


so8      Ube  TRomance  of  30abel  Xaop  Burton 

and  my  appearance  especially  created  mirth,  as  my 
skirt  up  to  my  waist  was  heavy  with  mud,  my  hat  torn 
to  ribbons,  with  the  rain  running  down  the  tatters.  A 
big  bath  was  prepared  for  each  of  us.  We  changed  our 
clothes,  and  sat  down  to  a  comfortable  and  excellent 
dinner,  thankful  to  be  in  the  hospitable  shelter  of  the 
Casa  Grande  again.  Here  we  tarried  for  a  fortnight,  and 
thoroughly  explored  Morro  Velho  this  time. 

Among  other  things,  I  determined  to  go  down  into 
the  mine,  which  has  the  reputation  of  being  the  largest, 
deepest,  and  richest  gold-mine  in  Brazil.  We  had  been 
very  anxious  to  visit  its  depths  when  we  were  at  Morro 
Velho  before,  but  Mr.  Gordon  had  put  us  off  until 
our  return. 

It  was  considered  rather  an  event  for  a  lady  to  go 
down  the  mine,  especially  as  Mrs.  Gordon,  the  Super- 
intendent's wife,  who  had  been  at  Morro  Velho  nine 
years  and  a  half,  had  never  been  down.  However,  she 
consented  to  accompany  me.  She  said,  "  I  have  never 
yet  taken  courage  ;  I  am  sure  if  I  don't  do  it  now,  I 
never  shall."  So  the  end  of  it  was  that  a  crowd  of 
miners  and  their  families  and  blacks  collected  along  the 
road  and  at  the  top  of  the  mine  to  see  us  descend. 
One  lady  staying  in  the  house  with  us  (Casa  Grande) 
could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  go  ;  and  when  I  asked 
Chico,  he  wrung  his  hands,  and  implored  me  not  to  go, 
weeping  piteously.  As  we  went  along  we  could  hear 
the  miners'  delighted  remarks,  and  their  wives  wonder- 
ing :  "  Well,  to  be  sure  now,  to  think  of  they  two 
going  down  a  mile  and  a  quarter  in  the  dark,  and  they 
not  obliged  to,  and  don't  know  but  that  they  may  never 


flDorro  Welbo  an&  its  Environs  309 

come  up  again  !  I'd  rather  it  was  they  than  me ! " 
"  Aye,  that's  our  countrywomen ;  they's  not  afeared 
of  nothing !  I'd  like  to  see  some  o*  they  Brazzys  put 
into  that  'ere  kibble." 

We  were  dressed  in  brown  Holland  trousers,  blouse, 
belt,  and  miner's  cap,  and  a  candle  was  stuck  on  our 
heads  with  a  dab  of  clay.  The  party  to  go  down 

consisted  of  Mr.  Gordon,  Richard,  Mr.  E ,  and 

Mr.  John  Whitaker,  an  engineer.  There  are  two 
ways  of  going  down,  by  ladders  and  by  a  bucket. 
The  ladders  are  nearly  a  thousand  yards  long.  If  you 
see  lights  moving  like  sparks  at  enormous  distances 
beneath,  it  is  apt  to  make  you  giddy.  Should  your 
clothes  catch  in  anything,  should  you  make  a  false 
step,  you  fall  into  unknown  space.  The  miners 
consider  this  safe.  They  do  it  in  half  an  hour,  running 
down  like  cats,  do  their  day's  work,  and  run  up  again 
in  three-quarters  of  an  hour ;  but  to  a  new-comer 
it  is  dreadfully  fatiguing,  and  may  occupy  four  hours 
— to  a  woman  it  is  next  to  impossible. 

The  other  way  is  easy,  but  considered  by  the  miners 
excessively  unsafe.  It  is  to  be  put  into  an  iron 
bucket  called  a  kibble,  which  is  like  a  huge  gypsy- 
pot  (big  enough  to  hold  two  ordinary-sized  people 
thinly  clad),  suspended  by  three  chains.  It  is  unwound 
by  machinery,  and  let  down  by  an  iron  rope  or  chain 
as  the  lifts  are  in  London.  It  takes  about  twenty 
minutes,  and  is  only  used  for  hauling  tons  of  stone 
out  of  the  mine  or  hauling  up  wounded  men.  The 
miners  said  to  me,  "  We  make  it  a  point  of  honour 
to  go  down  by  the  ladders ;  for  the  fact  is,  on  the 


310      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 

ladder  we  depend  on  ourselves,  but  in  the  kibble  we 
depend  on  every  link  of  the  chain,  which  breaks  from 
time  to  time."  If  the  slightest  accident  happens,  you 
can  do  nothing  to  help  yourself,  but  are  dashed  into 
an  apparently  fathomless  abyss  in  darkness.  The 
opening  where  we  first  embarked  was  a  narrow,  dark 
hole,  very  hot  and  oppressive.  The  kibble  was 

suspended  over  the  abyss.  Richard  and  Mr.  E 

went  first.  Mr.  Gordon  and  Mr.  Whitaker,  being 
superintendent  and  engineer,  went  by  the  ladders. 

In  due  time  the  kibble  returned,  and  Mrs.  Gordon 
and  I  were  put  into  it,  with  some  candles  fastened  to 
the  side  by  a  dab  of  clay,  a  piece  of  lighted  tow  in 
the  chain  above  us  that  we  might  see  the  beauties  of 
the  lower  regions,  and  a  flask  of  brandy  in  case  we 
got  faint,  which  I  am  proud  to  say  we  did  not  touch. 
As  we  looked  up  many  jokes  were  exchanged,  and 
word  was  given  to  lower  away.  We  waved  a 
temporary  farewell  to  the  sea  of  faces,  and  the  last 
thing  we  saw  was  Chico  and  Mrs.  Gordon's  black 
maid  weeping  bitterly  and  wringing  their  hands.  A 
tremendous  cheer  reached  us,  even  when  some  distance 
below. 

We  began  to  descend  slowly,  and  by  means  of  our 
rough  illuminations  we  saw  all  that  we  passed  through. 
Lower  and  lower  on  all  sides  were  dark  abysses  like 
Dante's  Inferno.  The  huge  mountain-sides  were  kept 
apart  by  giant  tree  trunks.  How  they  came  there  or 
how  fastened  up  is  one  of  the  wonders  of  man's  power 
and  God's  permission.  As  we  went  down,  down  into 
the  bowels  of  the  earth,  each  dark,  yawning  cavern 


/IDorro  Delbo  ant)  its  Environs  3" 

looked  uglier  than  its  neighbour.  Every  here  and 
there  was  a  forest  of  timber.  Whenever  we  passed 
any  works,  the  miners  lifted  their  lighted  caps,  which 
looked  like  sparks  in  the  immensity,  and  spoke  or  gave 
us  a  viva,  that  we  might  not  be  frightened.  It  was 
a  comfort  to  hear  a  human  voice,  though  it  could 
do  us  no  good  if  anything  went  wrong.  Suddenly 
in  a  dark,  desolate  place  our  kibble  touched  some 
projecting  thing  and  tilted  partly  over.  I  clutched 
at  the  chains  above  my  head,  and  Mrs.  Gordon  held 
me.  It  righted  itself  in  a  second.  In  their  anxiety 
to  do  well  they  had  put  us  into  the  wrong  kibble, 
which  had  a  superfluity  of  chain,  and  had  played 
out  a  little  too  much  of  it  above.  This  happened 
three  times,  and  they  were  three  moments  of  agony — 
such  moments  as  make  people's  hair  turn  grey.  I 
was  too  full  of  life  and  hope  to  want  to  die.  Every 
one  ought  to  experience  some  such  moments  in  his 
life,  when  his  heart  flies  up  in  supplication  to  God. 
It  was  wonderful,  when  half-way  down,  to  look  below 
and  see  the  lights,  like  fireflies  in  the  forest,  moving 
about.  At  length  the  kibble  stood  still,  and  began 
to  roll  like  a  boat.  Then  it  began  to  descend  per- 
pendicularly ;  and  after  a  little  while  we  saw  the  glare 
of  lights,  and  friendly  voices  bid  us  welcome  to  the 
mines.  Loud  vivas  greeted  us  from  the  workmen. 

I  cannot  describe  how  kind  and  thoughtful  all  the 
rough  workmen  were.  Everything  was  done  to  show 
us  how  much  they  were  pleased  and  flattered  by  our 
visit,  to  allay  fear,  to  amuse  us,  and  to  show  us  every- 
thing of  interest.  It  would  have  been  a  good  lesson 


312      ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  %at>B  Burton 

in  manners  to  many  London  drawing-rooms.  We 
each  had  two  men  to  guide  us  about. 

It  was  a  stupendous  scene  of  its  kind.  Caverns 
of  quartz  pyrites  and  gold,  whose  vaulted  roofs,  walls, 
and  floors  swarmed  with  blacks  with  lighted  candles 
on  their  heads,  looked  excessively  infernal.  Each  man 
had  drill  and  hammer,  and  was  singing  a  wild  song  and 
beating  in  time  with  his  hammer.  Each  man  bores 
eight  -palmes  (pounds)  a  day,  and  is  paid  accordingly, 
though  a  slave.  If  he  bores  more,  he  is  paid  for  his 
over-work.  Some  are  suspended  to  the  vaulted  roof 
by  chains,  and  in  frightful-looking  positions ;  others 
are  on  the  perpendicular  walls. 

After  seeing  the  whole  of  this  splendid  palace  of 
darkness  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  we  sat  on  a 
slab  of  stone  and  had  some  wine.  Richard  said  to 
Mr.  Gordon,  "  Suppose  this  timber  should  ever  catch 
fire,  what  would  you  do  ?  "  Mr.  Gordon  laughed,  and 
said,  "  Oh,  that  is  impossible  ;  the  whole  place  is 
dripping  with  water,  and  the  wood  is  all  damp,  and 
it  would  not  take  ;  and  we  have  no  chance  of  fire- 
damp and  other  dangers  of  explosion  as  in  other  mines 
— coal-mines,  for  instance.  Oh,  I'm  not  afraid  of 
that."  x 

At  this  time  the  mine  was  at  its  climax  of  greatness 
and  perfection,  perfectly  worked  and  regulated,  and 
paying  enormously. 

We  mounted  as  we  came.  I  found  it  a  much  more 
unpleasant  sensation  and  more  frightening  to  ascend 

1  Yet  the  mine  was  almost  destroyed  by  fire  some  six  months 
after  our  visit. 


fl&orro  Delbo  ano  tts  Environs  313 

than  to  descend.  Yet  sometimes  out  of  some  caverns 
of  horror  on  the  way  up  would  pop  an  urchin  of  ten 
or  twelve  laughing,  and  hop  across  a  beam  like  a 
frog  without  the  least  fear.  The  Brazilian  authorities 
wanted  to  interfere  to  prevent  children  being  employed 
in  the  mine,  and  Mr.  Gordon  to  please  them  stopped 
it ;  but  whole  families  came  and  implored  on  their  knees 
to  be  taken  back.  They  earned  much,  and  their  lives 
were  rendered  respectable  and  well  regulated,  and  their 
condition  superior  under  the  existing  regime.  But 
there  is  no  doubt  that  this  part  of  the  province  would 
degenerate  terribly,  should  the  colony  be  broken  up, 
or  the  present  Superintendent  leave. 

In  the  evening  the  miners  and  their  officers  gave  us 
a  concert.  A  large  room  in  the  stores  was  very  prettily 
decorated  with  palm  and  the  flower  of  Saint  John 
(which  is  a  creeper  like  a  rich  orange  honeysuckle  and 
dark  green  leaves),  and  chandeliers  were  intermixed. 
There  was  a  little  stage  for  the  performers,  adorned 
with  a  large  painted  representation  of  the  British  arms, 
and  a  place  for  the  band.  The  room,  though  large, 
was  crowded  ;  all  the  little  colony  was  present.  We 
had  comic  performances,  Christy  Minstrels,  and  senti- 
mental songs  for  about  two  hours,  wound  up  by  a 
dance,  and  at  midnight  broke  up  with  "  God  save  the 
Queen." 

We  were  now  preparing  for  the  second  half  of  our 
trip — to  canoe  down  the  Rio  Sao  Francisco  (thirteen 
hundred  miles)  from  Sabara  to  the  sea.  The  expedi- 
tion was  to  be  Richard,  myself  (if  permitted),  and  Mr. 
E ,  who  was  to  choose  whether  he  would  go  or 


314      ftbe  TComance  of  -Jsabel  Xaog  Burton 

not  (as  it  turned  out,  fortunately  for  him,  he  preferred 
to  return  to  Rio  with  the  Gold  Troop  on  July  28). 
I  was  entreating  to  go,  and  my  fate  was  hanging  in 
the  balance,  when  the  question  was  settled  for  me  by 
an  accident. 

Richard  had  been  requested  to  give  a  lecture  on 
his  travels.  The  night  of  July  27  was  fixed.  The 
room  was  arranged  as  before.  Richard  spoke  of  the 
pleasure  he  had  in  becoming  acquainted  with  them 
all,  and  told  them  his  impressions  about  Morro  Velho. 
He  thanked  the  officers,  captains,  miners,  and  all  for 
their  kindness  and  attention,  and  touched  upon  his 
travels  generally,  especially  the  Nile,  Mecca,  and 

Dahome.  Mr.  Gordon  then  spoke,  and  Mr.  E , 

and  many  pretty  little  speeches  were  made.  It  lasted 
about  an  hour,  and  then  we  had  a  short  concert.  I 
sang  four  times  ;  and  Chico  was  dressed  up,  and  sang 
very  prettily  with  the  guitar,  and  danced.  All  the 
singers  did  something,  and  a  little  dancing,  and  "  God 
save  the  Queen "  as  usual  terminated  the  festivities. 
Unfortunately  for  me,  after  my  first  song,  as  I  was 
going  off  the  platform  there  was  a  deep  step  to  take 
in  the  dark,  and  I  fell  off"  and  sprained  my  ankle 
severely  ;  but  I  managed  to  perform  my  part  to  the 
end  by  sitting  still,  excepting  when  I  had  to  sing  ;  so 
that  it  was  not  found  out  until  all  was  over,  and  I  had 
to  be  carried  home.  This  was  a  dreadful  bore  for 
Richard,  who  could  not  take  me,  and  did  not  like  to 
leave  me  ;  so  he  good-naturedly  put  ofFhis  journey  for 
ten  days. 

The   doctor   at  first   thought   my  leg  was  broken, 


/IDorro  IDelbo  an^  its  Environs  315 

but  it  turned  out  to  be  only  a  severe  contusion.  I 
was  five  days  in  bed,  and  then  was  promoted  to 
crutches,  litter,  and  sofa,  which  lasted  me  twenty 
days. 

At  last  the  day  came  to  see  Richard  off  on  his 
important  journey  in  a  canoe  from  Sabara  down  the 
Rio  das  Velhas  and  Rio  Sao  Francisco  to  the  sea, 
visiting  the  diamond-mines  at  Diamantina  from  the 

nearest  point  (to  that  city)  of  the  river.     Mr.  E 

had  already  started  for  Rio.  I  did  not  think  it  con- 
v enable  to  travel  alone  with  the  jeune  brigand,  so  he 
did  not  wait  for  me.  We  set  out  from  Morro  Velho 
on  August  6,  a  large  party  on  horse  and  mule  back, 
poor  me  in  a  litter,  and  of  course  ordered  to  return 
with  the  party.  The  litter  is  a  covered  stretcher, 
with  a  mule  in  front  and  one  behind,  in  shafts,  and  it 
takes  two  men  to  manage  it.  It  is  expensive  travel- 
ling, and  a  great  luxury  for  those  who  tire  soon  in 
the  saddle ;  but  I  would  rather  ride  any  distance,  as 
the  motion  makes  me  ill.  It  is  not  easy  like  the 
hammock.  We  rode  for  twelve  miles  over  a  pretty 
mountainous  road  to  Sabara,  a  very  picturesque,  ancient- 
looking  town,  with  eight  churches  and  some  important 
houses,  and  with  a  decent  vendha,  or  ranch.  It  is  on 
a  head  of  the  Rio  das  Velhas,  and  seems  to  be  the 
centre  of  North  American  emigration  here.  The 
first  view  of  the  town  and  winding  river  is  exceedingly 
pretty.  A  church  on  a  hilltop  is  the  first  indication 
or  landmark  of  Sabara,  the  town  being  immediately 
below  it.  We  arrived,  ranched  ourselves,  and  got  a 
good  dinner.  We  went  to  the  only  shop,  and  bought 


316      ube  IRomance  of  Ssafcel  Xaog  Button 

some  French  jewellery  for  a  few  coppers,  as  parting 
presents  for  each  other,  by  way  of  "  chaff "  ;  and  after 
seeing  the  town,  ended  the  evening  as  usual  seated 
round  an  empty  ranch  on  the  floor  or  on  our  boxes, 
and  drank  execrable  tea,  which  tasted  like  hot  brand y- 
and-water  without  sugar,  and  some  beer  presented 
to  us  by  the  great  man  of  the  place.  As  I  was  told 
he  was  very  rich  and  stingy,  I  asked  him  to  make  me 
a  present  of  a  few  bottles  of  beer  for  my  party,  as  we 
were  thirsty  ;  but  if  I  remember  right,  he  sent  me  in 
a  bill  for  it  next  morning. 

In  the  morning  we  got  a  good  ranch  breakfast, 
during  which  we  were  visited  by  all  the  "  swells  "  of 
Sabara.  We  set  out  for  the  river,  where  the  canoes  were. 
Two  canoes  were  lashed  together,  boarded,  and  covered 
over  with  an  awning  just  like  a  tent.  There  was  a 
little  brick  stove,  benches,  and  a  writing-table  erected. 
Richard  and  I  went  on  board,  and  the  young  lady  of 
the  party,  Miss  Dundas,  niece  of  "  Uncle  Brown," 
the  before-mentioned  "  Padre  Eterno,"  broke  a  bottle 
of  caxassi  over  her  bows,  exclaiming,  "  Brig  Eliza," 
whereby  hangs  an  untold  joke.  Besides  our  own 
party,  nearly  all  the  village  followed  us.  So  there 
arose  respectable  cheers  for  the  "  Brig  Eliza"  "  Captain 
and  Mrs.  Burton,"  "  Success  to  the  expedition,"  "  The 
Superintendent  and  his  wife,"  "  Prosperity  to  Sahara," 
"  The  Emperor  of  Brazil,"  "  The  Queen  of  England," 
with  many  vivas.  We  then  took  all  our  own  party 
on  board,  and  sent  the  animals  forward  to  meet  us, 
and  shoved  off.  There  were  two  blacks  in  the  stern, 
and  two  in  the  bows  to  paddle  and  pole,  and  one  black 


flDorro  IDelbo  ant)  its  Bnvirons  317 

to  cook  for  Richard  and  attend  upon  him.  One  old 
black  was  disagreeably  nervous,  and  begged  Richard 
to  exchange  him  at  the  next  town,  which  he  did.  We 
spooned  down  with  the  stream,  which  ran  very  fast, 
and  went  down  two  rapids,  and  got  aground  twice,  and 
towards  sunset  arrived  at  Roc.a  Grande.  Here  they 
all  took  leave  of  Richard — I  need  not  say  how  sadly. 
They  kindly  left  me  behind  for  a  space  to  follow,  as 
it  was  a  more  serious  business  for  me  to  say  "  good- 
bye "  than  for  them.  "  I  was  not  to  expect  him  till 
I  saw  him.  It  might  be  two  months,  or  four,  or 
six."  He  did  not  know  what  might  happen.  The 
dangers  were  Indians,  piranhas  (a  sort  of  river  pike), 
fever  and  ague,  and  of  course  the  rapids.  At  last 
I  parted  from  him  on  his  *  brig,'  with  the  old 
swallow-tailed  gentleman  (before  mentioned),  who  had 
begged  a  two-days'  passage,  and  a  savage  cao  de  fela 
and  his  five  blacks ;  and  from  a  bank  I  watched 
the  barque  with  dim  eyes  round  a  winding  of  the 
river,  which  hid  it  from  my  sight.  The  sun  was 
sinking  as  I  turned  away.  I  was  put  into  my  litter, 
and  taken  back  to  Sabara,  where  I  fell  in  with  my 
party,  and  we  returned  to  Morro  Velho  as  we  came. 
This  was  August  7. 

I  remained  with  my  kind  friends  the  Gordons 
till  I  got  well  enough  to  ride  all  day  without  injury. 
On  one  occasion  I  was  able  to  be  of  use  to  Mr. 
Gordon  in  a  small  matter  which  required  a  little 
diplomacy  and  a  gallop  of  three  leagues,  twelve  miles 
either  way,  out  and  in  within  a  given  time,  the 
message  he  had  sent  having  failed.  I  asked  to  go  ;  I 


Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xa&£  JSurton 


wanted  to  try  if  I  was  fit  for  my  long  ride,  and  he 
gave  me  my  choice  of  all  the  stables.  I  selected  a 
white  horse  of  remarkable  speed  and  endurance,  with 
a  strong  cross  of  the  Arab  in  him,  and  it  certainly 
would  have  been  my  own  fault  if  I  had  failed  as  to 
time.  I  rode  there,  found  the  desired  decision,  and 
walked  into  his  office  with  the  answer  long  before 
the  time,  which  pleased  him  very  much.  After  that 
I  thought  I  was  fit  to  set  out  on  my  return  journey 
to  Rio.  I  had  already  stayed  so  long  in  their  house, 
receiving  great  kindness  and  hospitality;  and  though 
they  begged  of  me  to  continue  with  them  until  it 
was  time  to  meet  Richard  at  Rio,  I  felt  that  life  was 
too  serious  to  pass  my  days  in  the  pleasant  dolce  far 
niente  of  catching  butterflies,  which  really  was  my 
principal  occupation  at  Morro  Velho.  There  was 
too  much  to  be  done  elsewhere,  so  I  begged  Mr. 
Gordon  to  lend  me  seven  animals,  two  slaves,  and 
one  of  his  tropeiro  captains,  or  muleteers,  and  I  pre- 
pared to  leave  this  hospitable  family  on  the  coming 
August  2,5. 

Before  this  date,  as  I  felt  sufficiently  recovered,  I 
had  gradually  emancipated  myself  from  litter  and  sofa, 
and  tried  my  strength  as  usual.  I  had  one  very 
pleasant  and  amusing  excursion. 

There  was  a  village  called  Santa  Rita,  about  five 
miles  from  Morro  Velho,  where  they  have  a  church, 
but  no  priest  ;  and  being  the  Feast  of  the  Assumption 
of  Our  Lady,  a  great  day,  the  villages  had  sent  over 
to  borrow  the  Morro  Velho  padre.  They  sent  a 
mounted  attendant  and  a  horse  saddled  with  silver 


/IDorto  Welbo  ant)  its  Bnvirons  3*9 

trappings  to  bring  him  there  and  back.  I  asked 
him  to  take  me.  Mr.  Gordon  lent  me  a  horse  and 
a  mounted  attendant,  and  we  set  out  on  a  most  lovely 
morning  for  our  pretty  mountain  ride.  The  padre 
was  in  the  height  of  Minas  fashion  and  elegance. 
He  wore  jack-boots,  white  corduroys,  a  very  smart 
coat,  waistcoat,  watch-chain,  embroidered  Roman 
collar,  a  white  pouche  with  tassels  and  silk  cravat, 
and  enormous  silver  spurs.  On  arriving,  we  were 
received  by  upwards  of  forty  people  in  a  private 
house  on  the  way  to  the  church.  From  there  we 
went  on  to  the  church,  a  small,  tawdry,  roadside  chapel, 
where  the  padre  said  Mass  ;  and  though  the  people 
were  very  devout,  the  children  and  dogs  were  very 
distracting.  We  then  went  to  a  vendha,  and  spread 
our  basket  of  provisions.  This  made  the  people 
furious.  The  padre  had  passed  me  off  as  his  niece, 
so  everybody  was  anxious  to  have  the  honour  of 
doing  hospitality  to  the  padre  and  his  niece.  About 
fifteen  messages  were  sent  to  us,  so  we  said  we  would 
go  round  and  take  coffee  with  them  after  our  breakfast. 
The  great  attraction  of  the  place  was  a  handsome  old 
lady,  Donna  Floris  Vella,  civilized  and  intelligent  by 
nature.  She  petted  me  a  good  deal  at  first  for 
being  the  padre's  niece,  and  called  me  btna  moca 
(here  to  be  young  and  fat  is  the  highest  personal 
compliment  they  can  pay  you),  and  quarrelled  with 
us  for  going  off  into  the  mato — the  forest,  as  she 
called  the  vendha — to  breakfast,  instead  of  coming 
to  her.  But  I  suddenly  forgot  that  I  was  the  padre's 
niece,  and  turned  round  and  spoke  to  Mr.  Fitzpatrick, 


320      ftbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

the  Morro  Velho  Master  of  Horse,  who  had  been 
sent  to  attend  upon  me,  in  English.  When  she  heard 
me  speaking  English  so  fluently,  she  flew  at  the 
padre  and  punched  him  in  the  ribs  in  a  friendly 
way,  and  told  him  he  was  a  liar ;  but  she  kept 
up  the  joke  with  the  rest  ;  so  we  had  coffee  and 
very  interesting  general  conversation  about  England 
and  civilization,  church  matters  and  marriages,  and 
were  taken  round  to  several  houses.  They  would 
have  been  jealous  if  we  had  only  visited  one  ; 
so  we  did  not  reach  home  till  late  in  the  after- 
noon. 

One  day  afterwards,  as  1  was  sitting  at  the  church 
door  at  Morro  Velho,  I  saw  some  hammocks  with 
bodies  lying  in  them.  They  were  carried  by  others, 
all  dripping  with  blood.  The  kibble — the  same  one 
we  had  been  down  the  mine  in — had  broken  a  link 
of  its  chain  and  fallen.  How  sorry  it  made  me  feel, 
and  how  thankful  that  it  did  not  happen  on  our 
day,  as  it  easily  might !  Mr.  Gordon  is  so  careful 
about  accidents  that  he  has  the  chain  hauled  over 
and  examined  every  twelve  hours,  and  a  prize  is 
given  to  any  one  who  can  find  a  faulty  link  ;  yet  in 
spite  of  all  this  from  time  to  time  it  will  break  away. 
I  think  it  happened  twice  during  my  stay.  There 
is  not  the  smallest  occurrence  that  happens  in  that 
large  colony  that  does  not  come  under  Mr.  Gordon's 
eye  between  nine  and  ten  o'clock  every  morning. 
The  wonder  is  how  he  finds  time  for  everything  and 
every  one  with  so  much  ease  to  himself. 

While   I  was   at  Morro    Velho  he   allowed   me   to 


/IDorro  Delbo  anfc  its  Environs  321 

organize  little  singing  parties  every  night.  All  who 
could  sing  used  to  assemble,  and  he  would  join  us, 
and  we  learnt  duets,  trios,  quartettes,  chorus  glees, 
and  so  on.  It  brought  people  together ;  and  he 
said  it  was  refreshing  after  the  day's  work,  instead  of 
sitting  reading  or  writing  in  a  corner,  always  tired. 

So    passed   the   time    at   Morro   Velho,   until    the 
day  of  my  departure  dawned. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

MY  LONELY  RIDE   TO  RIO 
(1867) 

The  day  of  my  delight  is  the  day  when  you  draw  near, 
And  the  day  of  mine  affright  is  the  day  you  turn  away. 
ALF  LAYLAH  WA  LAYLAH 

(Burton's  "Arabian  Nights"). 

ON  Sunday,  August  25,  we  had  a  sad  dinner  at 
the  Casa  Grande  at  midday,  on  account  of  the 
breaking  up  our  little  party,  which  had  been  so  pleasant 
off  and  on  for  the  past  two  months.  We  should  pro- 
bably never  meet  again.  I  bade  Mrs.  Gordon  farewell, 
and  at  3.30  a  considerable  cavalcade  set  out  from  Mr. 
Gordon's  hospitable  door.  I  had  to  pass  through  the 
village  of  Morro  Velho.  There  appeared  many  a  waving 
handkerchief,  and  I  received  many  a  warm  handshake 
and  "  God-speed." 

At  the  top  of  the  village  hill  I  turned  to  take  a  last 
grateful  farewell  of  valley,  church,  and  village — the  little 
colony,  with  its  white  settlements  and  pretty  bungalows, 
where  I  had  passed  so  many  pleasant  days.  We  rode 
along  one  of  the  beautiful  roads,  which  I  have  before 
described,  for  about  six  miles,  often  silent  or  trying  to 

make  cheerful  remarks.     Mr.  Gordon  accompanied  me. 

322 


Xonels  TCioe  to  1Rio  323 

A  little  before  five  o'clock  the  sun's  rays  were  beginning 
to  fade  away  into  the  pleasant,  illuminated  coolness  of 
late  afternoon,  and  we  stopped  at  a  house  agreed  upon 
as  the  parting-place,  the  house  of  the  same  Donna  Floris 
Vella  before  mentioned,  an  old  widow  lady  with  a 
delicate  son.  Though  already  grey  and  aged,  she  was 
very  buxom  and  clever,  though  deprived  by  circum- 
stances of  cultivation.  She  was  what  we  would  call  "  a 
good  fellow."  Here  we  stayed  half  an  hour,  and  looked 
at  her  flowers.  Then  we  remounted,  and  rode  on  for 
a  few  hundred  yards.  My  host,  Mr.  Gordon,  who 
commanded  our  party,  here  anticipated  a  little  mutiny, 
as  all  in  their  kindness  of  heart  wanted  to  accompany 
the  lone  woman,  and  some  begged  to  go  with  me  for 
one  day  and  some  even  for  one  stage.  So  we  suddenly 
stopped  in  a  tract  of  low  brushwood,  and  he  gently 
but  firmly  said,  "  It  was  here  that  I  parted  with  my 
daughter  when  her  husband  took  her  to  England,  and 
it  is  here  that  I  will  part  with  you."  I  shook  hands 
silently  with  him,  and  then  with  the  others  all  round,  and 
as  the  sun's  last  rays  faded  into  evening  I  turned  the 
head  of  my  "  gallant  grey  "  towards  my  long  ride  ;  but 
I  turned  myself  in  the  saddle,  and  watched  them  all 
retreating  across  the  tract  homewards  until  the  last 
waving  handkerchief  had  disappeared. 

It  was  one  of  those  beautiful  South  American  evenings, 
cool  and  fresh  after  the  day's  heat;  and  twilight  was 
succeeded  by  a  brilliant  starlight  such  as  England's 
denizens  have  never  dreamt  of.  There  was  perfect 
stillness,  save  the  hum  of  late  insects  and  a  noise  like 
distant  rain  ;  sweet  smells  from  the  forest  were  wafted 


324      Ube  TComance  of  Isabel  Xaog  3Burton 

across  my  path  ;  and  dark,  brown  birds  of  magpie  shape 
flitted  along  the  ground  like  big  bats  or  moths,  some- 
times perching  for  an  instant,  and  disappearing  without 
noise  in  a  ghostlike  fashion.  I  felt  very  sad.  I  was 
sorry  to  leave  my  friends.  Two  months  even  "  off 
and  on  "  is  like  twelve  months  to  a  wanderer  and  an 
Englishwoman  in  exile,  and  above  all  in  the  wilds. 
She  is  glad  to  meet  her  country  people  when  they  are 
fynd ;  and  they  had  been  so  very  kind.  Moreover, 
I  was  returning  after  a  taste  of  bush  life,  not  to  my 
eyrie  in  Sao  Paulo,  but  to  the  cab  shafts  of  semi- 
civilization  in  Rio  de  Janeiro. 

My  retinue  consisted  of  the  Captain  of  the  Gold 
Troop,  a  kind,  attentive  man.  He  rode  down  with 
the  Gold  Troop  from  the  mines,  and  protected  it  with 
an  old  two-barrelled  horse-pistol,  which  would  never 
go  off  when  we  wanted  to  shoot  anything  (and  by 
way  of  parenthesis  I  may  remark  that,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  a  small  boy  to  look  after  the  mules,  I  would 
undertake  for  a  bet  to  rob  the  troop  myself).  My 
capitao,  whom  for  the  future  I  shall  call  Senhor  Jorge, 
spoke  but  little,  and  that  in  Brazilian.  I  should  call 
him  a  very  silent  youth,  which  was  an  advantage  in 
passing  beautiful  scenery,  or  when  taking  notes,  or 
feeling  inclined  for  thought ;  but  there  were  moments 
when  I  wanted  to  glean  information  about  the  country, 
and  then  I  used  to  draw  him  out  with  success. 
Besides  this  stalwart  there  was  my  faithful  Chico,  two 
slaves  to  take  care  of  the  animals,  six  mules  for  baggage 
and  riding,  and  my  grey  horse. 

We  arrived  at  the  ranch  of  Sant'  Antonio  d'Acima 


325 

at  about  eight  o'clock.  Here  I  got  a  comfortable 
straw  bed  and  some  milk.  Some  of  the  inhabitants, 
about  fifteen  in  number,  came  over  to  our  ranch,  which 
consisted  of  four  bare,  whitewashed  walls,  a  ceiling 
of  plaited  bamboo,  a  mud  floor,  a  wooden  shutter  for 
a  window,  two  wooden  benches  and  table,  and  three 
tallow  dips.  These  good  people  sang  songs  and  glees, 
and  danced  Minas  dances  for  me  to  the  native  wire 
guitar,  snapping  their  fingers,  and  beating  time  with 
their  feet.  They  sing  and  dance  at  the  same  time. 
They  were  all  very  merry.  At  ten  I  retired  to  try 
and  sleep,  leaving  them  to  continue  their  festivities  ; 
but  what  with  the  excitement  of  the  day,  and  the 
still  twanging  guitars  at  the  other  side  of  the  parti- 
tion, I  did  not  succeed. 

At  2  a.m.  I  rose,  and,  calling  to  Senhor  Jorge,  asked 
him  to  send  for  the  animals.  The  two  slaves  were 
sent  to  the  pasture  to  look  for  them,  drive  them  in,  and 
feed  them.  While  this  operation  was  going  on,  I  paid 
the  master  for  my  night's  entertainment  the  sum  of 
seven  milreis,  or  fourteen  shillings.  When  I  mounted, 
it  was  4  a.m.  It  was  quite  dark  and  foggy,  but  this  I 
did  not  mind.  I  had  heard  from  all  quarters  that  the 
country  was  execrable.  My  mule,  like  Byron's  corsair, 
possessed  one  virtue  to  a  thousand  crimes,  and  that  was 
surefootedness,  and  had  an  objection  to  deep  holes ; 
and  were  the  whole  journey  to  have  been  performed  on 
a  single  plank,  I  would  have  ridden  him  in  the  dark 
without  a  bridle.  I  threw  it  on  his  neck,  and  tried  to 
keep  my  hands  warm.  Soon  the  fog  lifted,  and  the 
moon's  last  crescent  showed  us  the  way,  aided  by 


326      Ube  TRomance  of  Ssabel  Xat>£  JSurton 

starlight.  The  dawn  grew  upon  us  at  5.30,  and  at 
6.30  the  sun  gilded  the  mountain-tops.  At  eight  we 
arrived  at  Rio  das  Pedras,  our  old  station,  breakfasted 
from  our  basket,  and  changed  animals.  I  had  arranged 
to  ride  my  mule  in  the  dark,  but  my  good  grey  horse 
in  the  daylight,  for  he  trotted  well,  and  this  would 
relieve  the  journey  greatly.  We  had  now  ridden 
twelve  miles.  My  mule  was  lazy,  I  had  no  spur,  and 
besides  the  country  was  difficult.  I  had  still  twelve 
miles  to  go.  So  I  changed  for  the  grey.  I  passed 
over  several  bits  of  prairie  ground,  where  I  gave  my 
grey  "  spirits."  I  arrived  at  twelve  o'clock,  two  hours 
later  than  I  had  intended,  at  Casa  Branca,  the  station 
where  we  had  stopped  five  weeks  previously.  The 
sun  had  already  been  fierce  for  two  hours.  It  is  an 
excellent  plan  in  Brazil  to  start  early  and  ride  your 
twenty-four  or  thirty  miles  bt fore  ten  or  eleven,  and  rest 
during  the  great  heat  of  the  day  under  shelter.  It  saves 
both  man  and  beast,  and  enables  them  to  last  longer;  and 
on  a  moonlight  or  starlight  morning  in  the  tropics  you 
lose  nothing  of  scenery,  it  is  so  bright.  Casa  Branca 
was  an  old  broken-down  house  in  a  valley  near  a  river. 
The  only  available  room  was  occupied  by  an  invalid. 
The  woman  of  the  house,  be  it  remarked,  had  twenty- 
four  children,  and  a  cat  for  each  child  ;  so  we  had  scanty 
room,  but  decent  food — canjica  (a  rice  mess),  fowl  roast 
and  stewed,  far  in  ha  (flour),  coves  (cabbage),  with  tocinho 
(bacon  fat),  and  feijao  (black  beans).  My  sleeping- 
place  was  a  room  with  four  narrow  mud  walls,  a  rush 
ceiling,  mud  floor,  a  door  which  only  kept  shut  by 
planting  a  stake  against  it,  and  a  bit  of  sacking  covered 


to  IRio  327 

the  hole  representing  a  window.  Every  day,  on  arriving 
at  my  ranch,  I  first  looked  after  the  animals  and  their 
comforts,  for  on  this  all  depends ;  then  settled  my 
own,  wrote  up  this  journal,  saw  that  the  men  had  all 
they  wanted,  dined,  and  then  inspected  the  place,  and 
read  till  falling  asleep,  always  rising  at  i  or  2  a.m. 
This  evening  I  took  a  stroll  down  the  partially  dried-up 
bed  of  the  river  by  twilight,  and  met  herds  of  cattle 
being  driven  home.  The  picture  would  have  made 
a  good  Turner.  On  my  return  Chico  brought  me  a 
caxassi  bath  ;  this  is,  literally,  a  grog  of  native  rum 
and  hot  water,  without  sugar,  which  gives  a  refreshing 
sleep.  In  these  countries  there  is  a  minute  tick,  which 
covers  you  by  millions,  burrowing  into  your  flesh ; 
you  cannot  extract  it,  and  it  maddens  you.  At  night 
you  derive  an  inexpressible  relief  from  having  the 
grog  bath. 

Next  morning  we  rose  at  2.20,  but  did  not  get  off 
till  4  a.m.  It  was  pitch  dark,  raining,  with  high  wind, 
and  altogether  a  decidedly  suicidal  kind  of  morning. 
Instead  of  going  down  the  bed  of  the  river,  we  struck 
away  to  the  right  (N.W.),  on  a  new  road  to  any  I 
had  been  formerly.  We  groped  our  way  through 
rain  and  biting  wind.  At  7  a.m.  we  took  a  last 
view  of  the  cross  of  Morro  Velho  from  a  height 
forty-six  miles  off,  having  passed  through  Cachoeira 
do  Campo,  a  long,  straggling  village  which  climbed  a 
hill  and  possessed  a  church  and  one  or  two  respectable 
houses.  It  should  be  remarked  that  in  Minas  Geraes 
there  are  a  great  number  of  large  black  crosses,  with 
all  the  instruments  of  the  Passion,  erected  either  before 


328      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  %aog  Burton 

the  parish  church  or  on  heights  ;  they  were  introduced 
by  the  Jesuit  missionaries.  An  Englishman  having  any 
great  enterprise  on  hand  will  say  as  an  incentive  to 
the  blacks,  "  When  such  a  work  is  completed,  I  will 
plant  a  cross  in  your  village "  ;  and  the  hope  of  this 
makes  them  anxious  and  hard-working.  We  passed 
a  deserted  house  and  ranch.  The  country  all  about 
was  ugly,  wild,  and  desolate,  and  composed  chiefly  of 
barren  campos.  At  9  a.m.  we  arrived  at  Chiquero,  a 
little  village  and  ranch  on  a  hill.  We  picnicked  in  the 
open  ranch  with  the  mules,  not  liking  to  go  into  a  hot 
shelter  and  come  out  again  in  the  wind.  Meantime 
the  sun  came  out  and  scorched  us  up.  We  changed 
animals,  and  left  Chiquero  at  ten.  My  mule  "  Camon- 
dongo  "  trotted  after  us  like  a  dog.  Our  road  was  bad, 
but  a  little  less  ugly  than  hitherto.  We  saw  a  fox  in 
the  wood,  and  Senhor  Jorge  tried  to  shoot  it  with 
the  old  horse-pistol,  but  failed.  Later  on  we  passed 
through  some  woods,  and  finally  saw  Ouro  Branco 
quite  close  to  us  from  a  height  on  the  other  side 
of  the  serra.  I  was  quite  delighted,  and  exclaimed, 
"  Oh,  we  shall  get  in  early  to-day."  "  Patience," 
said  my  capitao  ;  "  wait  a  little."  We  had  to  make 
an  enormous  detour  of  at  least  two  leagues  to  get  to 
Ouro  Branco,  which  seemed  close  to  us,  because  we 
could  not  cut  straight  across  the  serra,  which  was 
impassable.  It  was  very  irritating  always  seeing  the 
town  near  us,  and  yet  always  unable  to  reach  it. 
I  wanted  to  ride  straight  down  the  serra,  but 
Senhor  Jorge  wouldn't  let  me,  and  so  we  eventually 
passed  round  under  the  rocks  beneath  it.  I  saw  that 


3*9 

he  was  right,  though  it  seemed  such  a  waste  of  time. 
Still,  the  delay  was  not  to  be  regretted,  as  the  only 
curious  feature  of  this  part  is  in  this  turn,  which  is 
full  of  curious  hills  covered  with  stones  of  a  wonder- 
ful and  natural  formation,  starting  out  of  the  earth  in 
a  slanting  position.  The  only  idea  it  conveys  to  the 
mind  is  that  of  a  hilly  churchyard,  overstocked  with 
tombstones  all  blown  on  one  side  by  the  wind.  They 
are  intersected  with  a  curious  stunted  tree  or  shrub, 
with  a  tuft  at  the  end  of  each  branch  ;  and  every  here 
and  there  was  a  small  patch  or  forest  of  them,  and 
they  presented  a  very  weird  look  in  the  surrounding 
desolation.  I  did  not  know,  nor  could  Senhor  Jorge 
inform  me,  what  these  stones  were  made  of,  nor  why 
this  curious  formation.  Though  he  had  travelled  the 
road  for  seven  years,  and  been  in  the  country  since 
his  birth,  he  had  never  remarked  them  before.  Coming 
in  we  saw  a  peasant  with  a  stick  and  a  pistol  fighting 
a  cobra.  It  appeared  a  long  day,  as  we  had  had  five 
hours  of  darkness,  biting  wind,  and  rain,  followed  by 
four  hours  of  scorching  sun. 

We  arrived  at  Ouro  Branco  at  one  o'clock.  It  is 
a  long,  straggling  village,  with  a  church  and  a  few 
nice,  respectable,  white  houses.  A  wall  of  green  serra 
faces  the  village,  which  runs  round  on  the  top  of  a 
semicircular  eminence  under  the  serra.  It  had  several 
old  houses,  one  marked  1759,  a  Minas  cross,  and 
an  old  stone  fountain.  The  ranch  was  respectable, 
but  very  dirty  behind  the  scenes.  I  went  into  the 
inner  part  to  prepare  food  myself,  and  was  thankful 
that  I  did  so.  The  women  were  unwashed,  dirtily 


33°      Ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcp  JBurton 

clad,  covered  with  snuff,  and  with  hair  streaming 
down  their  backs  ;  and  the  kitchen  utensils  cannot  be 
described.  It  is  almost  impossible  for  an  English- 
woman in  any  part  of  the  world,  no  matter  how  rough 
she  may  become,  even  in  bushranging,  to  view  dirt 
with  calm  and  indifference. 

I  left  Ouro  Branco  at  4.30  a.m.  It  was  then  pitch 
dark,  but  finally  the  heavy  clouds  and  small  rain  cleared 
away,  and  we  enjoyed  starlight,  then  a  delicious  dawn 
and  bright  morning.  We  first  rode  through  a  long, 
straggling  village,  called  Carreiras,  and  afterwards 
passed  a  small  fazenda,  where  there  were  evidences  of 
a  refined  mind  ;  it  was  radiant  with  flowers,  and  trellised 
with  creepers.  Our  road  to-day  was  prettier.  We 
passed  through  well-wooded  lanes  with  pretty  foliage — 
the  umbrella  tree  and  feathery  mimosa.  The  next 
feature  worth  remarking  was  a  small  river,  which  had 
overhanging  trees  of  a  white-and-pink  feathery  flower 
which  yields  an  edible  bean.  I  sent  one  of  our  men 
to  pick  some.  They  have  a  branch  of  green  buds  in 
the  middle,  and  the  external  ones  sprout  forth  in 
feather,  which  is  magenta  pink  at  its  base  and  snow 
white  at  the  ends,  terminating  in  a  yellow  knob.  We 
then  met  some  men  hunting  peccary  ;  the  master  with 
a  horse  and  gun,  and  the  beaters  with  dogs  in  couples 
and  hatchets.  At  8  a.m.  we  arrived  at  a  small  ranch, 
in  a  forest  called  Holaria,  kept  by  an  Italian  and  a 
Portuguese.  The  former  keeps  his  original  grind- 
organ,  which  attracted  all  the  birds  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, who  perched  and  sang  loudly  in  the  tree-tops 
surrounding  it.  He  had,  however,  forgotten  his  native 


tongue.  We  picketed  the  animals,  and  breakfasted  in 
the  open. 

The  gigantic  earth-slips  in  this  part  of  the  world 
present  a  very  remarkable  appearance.  They  appeared 
like  yawning  gulfs,  as  if  some  awful  convulsion  of 
Nature  had  just  taken  place  ;  and  one  can  hardly 
believe  the  hubbub  that  is  effected  by  little  streams 
of  water  wearing  away  and  causing  the  earth  to  fall. 
Some  appeared  as  if  a  vast  plain  had  sunk,  leaving 
gigantic  walls,  fanciful  castles,  and  pyramids  of  earth 
standing  alone  in  the  middle.  They  are  of  a  bright 
red  clay,  which  the  sun  variegates  like  a  kaleidoscope. 

We  left  Holaria  at  nine,  and  came  to  Quelsez,  a 
long  village  with  shops  and  a  few  decent  houses.  I 
stopped  at  the  shop  of  a  Portuguese  Jew  to  look  at 
violas.  We  then  rode  along  a  rather  pretty  and  level 
road,  where  we  met  mules  and  tropeiros,  which  indicated 
that  we  were  joining  the  civilized  world  again,  and 
suggested  more  of  highway  and  traffic  than  we  had 
as  yet  seen.  We  stopped  at  Bandeirinho,  a  few  huts 
and  farm,  and  had  a  glass  of  water  and  witnessed  great 
excitement  amongst  the  juvenile  population  because 
a  cobra  was  killing  all  their  chickens.  All  along  the 
road  to-day  our  way  was  lined  with  a  beautiful  sort 
of  lilac  laburnum.  We  had  plenty  of  level  ground 
for  galloping. 

We  arrived  at  1 2.30  at  a  village  called  Ribeirao  do 
Inferno,  a  few  straggling  houses  and  ranch,  poor  but 
clean.  In  the  ranch  and  its  surroundings  lay  a  sick 
girl,  an  old  woman,  two  young  married  women,  and 
a  man.  As  I  was  known  to  be  European,  they  came 


332      Ube  Romance  of  Isabel  Olaog  Burton 

to  ask  me  if  I  had  any  remedies  ;  sickness  was  rare 
here,  and  doctor  or  medicines  unknown.  I  produced 
a  little  medicine  chest,  with  which  they  were  quite 
surprised  and  delighted.  First  I  went  to  the  old 
woman.  She  was  seventy ;  she  had  been  travelling 
along  on  a  mule,  when  she  was  suddenly  seized  with 
spasms,  was  unable  to  proceed,  and  was  carried  into  the 
first  house.  She  was  shut  up  in  the  dark,  and  would 
not  allow  any  light  in  the  room,  where  about  a  dozen 
sympathizers  were  collected,  till  I  absolutely  refused  to 
prescribe  for  her  in  the  dark.  She  then  consented  to 
a  candle  being  brought.  She  then,  after  some  beating 
about  the  bush,  confessed  to  me  that  she  had  eaten 
too  much  cabbage,  upon  which  I  prescribed  for  her 
to  take  a  cup  of  "  English  "  tea  which  I  had  with  me 
with  milk  and  sugar,  and  left  her  quite  happy.  The 
girl  had  a  serious  chill.  I  made  her  some  hot  punch 
of  caxassi  water  and  sugar,  with  a  large  lump  of  hog's 
lard  in  it,  in  default  of  butter,  and  covered  her  up 
with  six  blankets  and  rugs  to  produce  perspiration. 
The  family  fought  very  hard  about  it,  and  declared 
that  she  should  not  and  would  not  drink  it  ;  but 
I  insisted  that  she  must,  and  she  helped  me  by  taking 
to  it  very  kindly.  She  was  quite  well,  but  weak, 
after  a  few  hours.  The  two  young  women  had  head- 
aches from  other  causes,  and  I  gave  them  carbonate 
of  soda,  which  they  insisted  was  sea-salt,  and  imagina- 
tion made  them  sea-sick.  But  the  worst  of  all  was  the 
man,  who  was  seriously  ill,  and  I  found  out  at  last 
it  resulted  from  decayed  teeth,  upon  which  I  told  him 
that  only  a  dentist  could  cure  him.  His  wife  told 


Xonels  1RU>e  to  TCto  333 

me  with  tears  that  it  was  death  to  have  a  tooth  out, 
and  I  must  give  him  some  medicine  that  would  make 
the  decayed  teeth  drop  out  without  pain  ;  but  I  told 
her  that  that  was  beyond  my,  or  any  one's,  power.  I 
wonder  what  a  London  doctor  would  have  given  for 
my  reputation  that  night ! 

It  is  worth  noticing  that  to-day  the  carapatos  (ticks) 
were  on  the  decrease.  This  seems  to  be  the  border 
or  barrier  of  their  country ;  but  I  do  believe  this  place 
to  be  unhealthy,  for  we  were  all  slightly  ailing  that 
night.  A  young  Portuguese  engineer  who  has  been 
educated  in  France  arrived  at  the  ranch  in  the  evening 
en  route  for  Ouro  Preto.  He  told  me  he  had  been  in 
Ouro  Preto  when  we  had  passed  through  it  on  our  way 
out,  and  had  much  wished  to  make  our  acquaintance. 

We  were  rather  lazy  the  next  morning,  and  did  not 
leave  Ribeirao  until  a  few  minutes  to  six.  My  invalids 
were  all  well ;  but  I  only  saw  the  master.  My  four 
men  and  myself  were  all  suffering  from  headache,  so 
the  place  must  have  been  unhealthy.  We  had  nothing 
to  regret  in  starting  so  late,  for  it  was  darker,  colder, 
and  more  mizzly  than  ever.  We  rode  two  and  a 
half  leagues,  or  ten  miles,  before  breakfast.  Neither 
our  road  nor  any  events  were  worthy  of  remark.  The 
scenery  would  have  been  very  beautiful  for  England, 
but  it  was  tame  for  South  America.  We  passed  at 
intervals  a  few  cottages  or  a  solitary  fazenda.  We 
breakfasted  in  the  open  ground  of  a  pretty  ranch,  called 
Floresta,  surrounded  by  wooded  mountains.  There 
we  found  several  men  lassoing  a  struggling  bull,  who 
would  not  consent  to  leave  his  birthplace  and  little 


334      ftbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

friends,  and  gave  them  about  twenty  minutes'  trouble 
over  every  hundred  yards,  tearing  men  and  trees  down 
with  his  lasso.  Senhor  Jorge  would  go  inside  the  ranch, 
but  I  persisted  in  seeing  the  sport.  We  then  passed 
a  few  straggling  houses ;  then  an  old  fazenda  ;  then  we 
came  to  a  stream  with  one  plank,  which  we  made  our 
animals  cross. 

We  reached  Gama  at  i.io  p.m.,  having  been  out 
for  seven  hours.  I  felt  a  little  tired,  and  declined 
to  ride  any  farther,  as  there  was  no  necessity.  Gama 
is  a  ranch,  and  a  poor,  dirty  one,  in  a  desolate 
spot.  It  was  fortunate  for  me  that  I  arrived  when  I 
did,  for  half  an  hour  later  arrived  en  route  for  some 
distant  fazenda  Senhor  Nicolao  Netto  Carneiro  Seao, 
a  polished  and  travelled  man  who  spoke  excellent 
English.  He  was  travelling  with  his  wife,  children, 
and  servants,  numbering  sixteen  persons,  some  splendid 
animals,  and  a  liteira.  We  had  a  long  conversation 
over  a  gypsy  fire  which  his  servant  made  on  the  ranch 
floor,  during  which  he  told  me  he  had  served  for  five 
years  in  the  British  navy.  He  appeared  to  be  anxious 
to  import  everything  European,  and  to  civilize  his 
country.  He  was  kind  enough  to  say  that  he  longed 
to  meet  Richard,  and  gave  us  a  general  invitation  to 
visit  his  fazcnda,  and  we  exchanged  cards. 

The  next  morning  we  got  up  at  1.30  a.m.,  but  did 
not  start  till  3.30.  The  morning  was  starlight,  with  a 
biting  wind,  but  it  soon  grew  dark  and  cloudy.  We 
had  no  end  of  petty  misfortunes.  My  change  horse, 
being  allowed  to  run  loose,  that  we  might  go  faster, 
instead  of  following  us,  ran  back  to  his  pasturage  of  Jast 


Xonelg  TRtoe  to  TCio  335 

night.  The  mule  I  was  riding  insisted  on  following 
him,  and  heeded  neither  bit  nor  whip,  but  nearly  left 
me  in  a  ditch.  Our  cargo  mule  took  advantage  of 
the  scrimmage  to  bolt  in  an  opposite  direction.  And 
it  was  at  this  crisis  especially  dark  and  cloudy.  We 
lost  nearly  an  hour  in  collecting  again,  as  we  could 
not  see  each  other  nor  any  path.  It  seemed  a  very 
long  two  leagues  (eight  miles)  before  breakfast.  As 
soon  as  it  was  light  we  could  see  a  church  tower  of 
Barbacena  on  a  neighbouring  hill,  apparently  about 
three  miles  from  us,  but  in  reality  fifteen  miles  distant. 
At  7.10  we  encamped  in  a  clearing.  My  grey 
horse  (the  change)  was  tied  up  to  a  tree  preparatory 
to  being  saddled,  and  got  the  staggers,  threw  himself 
down,  and  rolled  and  kicked  so  that,  when  we  left 
again  at  eight  o'clock,  I  had  to  remount  my  mule 
"Camondongo."  We  passed  a  village  outside  Barbacena, 
and  met  a  very  large  Brazilian  family  travelling  some- 
where with  horses,  mules,  and  liteiras.  There  were 
so  many  girls  that  it  looked  like  a  school.  We 
stopped  at  the  ranch  of  Boa  Vista  that  I  might  change 
saddles.  The  grey  seemed  all  right  again.  The 
mule  was  done  up.  I  sent  the  cargo  mules,  servants, 
and  animals  on  to  Registro,  a  league  farther  than 
Barbacena,  and  rode  to  Hermlano's  Hotel,  where  we 
had  originally  put  up  at  Barbacena  when  we  started. 
Here  I  found  Godfrey,  our  former  German  coach - 
driver,  and  arranged  my  passage,  and  found  that 
Hermlano  or  some  other  scoundrel  had  changed  my  cao 
de  fela  pup  for  a  white  mongrel,  which  I  presented 
to  Godfrey.  I  paid  a  visit  of  twenty  minutes  to  a 


336      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaoy  JSurton 

former  hospitable  acquaintance,  Dr.  Regnault,  and  then 
rode  on  five  miles  farther  to  Registro,  and  arrived  at 
1.15  very  tired,  having  been  out  ten  hours. 

Registro,  which  I  have  cursorily  noticed  before,  is  a 
picturesque  fazenda  on  the  roadside,  all  constructed  in 
a  rude  wooden  style,  and  is  a  mule  station.  It  is  a  fine, 
large  building,  and  the  coach,  after  leaving  Barbacena, 
stops  here  first  to  pick  up  passengers  and  baggage. 
There  is  also  a  celebrated  cigarette  manufactory,  which 
contains  two  rooms  full  of  workers,  one  for  men  and  the 
other  for  women  slaves.  I  went  to  visit  them,  and 
bought  a  packet  for  half  a  milreis,  or  thirteen  pence 
(then).  The  cigarettes  are  hard  and  strong,  and  do  not 
draw  well.  I  did  not  like  them.  The  master  makes 
about  i, 600  milreis,  or  about  .£160,  a  month  by  them; 
so  some  people  evidently  find  them  good. 

I  rose  at  3.30  the  next  morning.  Whilst  dressing  I 
heard  what  I  supposed  was  threshing  grain  or  beating 
sacks ;  it  went  on  for  about  thirty  minutes,  and  I  did 
not  pay  any  attention  to  it  till  at  last  I  heard  a  sob  issue 
from  the  beaten  mass  at  the  other  side  of  a  thin  partition 
wall.  I  then  knew  what  was  taking  place,  and  turned 
so  sick  I  could  hardly  reach  the  door.  I  roused  the 
whole  house,  and  called  out  to  the  man  to  cease.  I  begged 
the  girl  slave  off,  and  besought  the  master  to  stop,  for 
I  felt  quite  ill  ;  but  it  was  fully  ten  minutes  before  I 
could  awaken  any  one's  pity  or  sympathy  ;  they  seemed 
to  be  so  used  to  it  they  would  hardly  take  the  trouble 
to  get  up,  and  the  man  who  was  beating  only  laughed 
and  beat  on.  I  nearly  fainted,  though  I  could  only  hear 
and  not  see  the  operation.  I  thought  the  poor  wretch 


Xonels  TCifce  to  TCio  337 

must  have  been  pounded  to  a  jelly  before  he  left  off; 
but  she  turned  out  to  be  a  fine,  strapping  black  girl, 
with  marvellous  recuperative  powers,  for  when  the  man 
ceased  she  just  gave  herself  a  shake  and  walked  away. 

I  left  Registro  at  7  a.m.  Here  I  was  to  lose  my  escort. 
Senhor  Jorge  and  the  slaves  accompanied  me  to  see  me 
off,  and  appeared  very  sorry  that  our  pleasant  ride  was 
over.  They  were  to  start  at  the  same  time  to  ride 
back  home  to  Morro  Velho.  It  was  quite  a  curious 
sensation,  after  three  months'  absence,  to  find  myself 
once  more  on  a  road,  and  a  road  with  a  coach  going 
to  civilized  haunts.  I  found  the  motion  of  the  coach 
as  unpleasant  as  a  steamer  in  a  gale  of  wind  after 
a  long  stay  on  land. 

We  descended  the  Serra  de  Mantiqueira  so  quickly 
that  I  did  not  recognize  our  former  laborious  ascent. 
I  noticed  the  trees  and  ferns  were  very  beautiful  in 
the  forests  as  we  dashed  along — all  festoons  and  arches. 
We  had  a  most  beautiful  and  extensive  view  of  the 
Serra  de  Mantiqueira  and  the  surrounding  mountains. 
We  then  came  to  our  last  station,  just  outside  Juiz 
de  Fora.  The  country  is  very  much  the  same  during 
all  this  journey,  perpetual  mountain,  valley,  forest,  and 
river,  and  the  only  great  feature  is  the  serra. 

We  drove  up  to  the  hotel  of  Juiz  de  Fora  at 
3.30,  having  done  our  sixty-four  miles  in  eight  hours 
and  twenty-three  minutes.  I  asked  Godfrey  how  it 
was  that  we  had  come  back  so  much  faster  than  we 
made  the  journey  out.  It  transpired  that  he  had  got 
married  in  the  interval,  and  now  had  somebody  waiting 
for  him  at  home. 

22 


338      ftbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xafcg  Burton 

Some  of  my  coach  companions  came  to  the  hotel, 
one  a  very  much  esteemed  old  man  ;  a  French  engineer, 
with  a  pretty,  delicate  wife  and  child ;  and  three  South- 
erners— General  Hawthorne,  of  the  Southern  army, 
an  intelligent  and  very  remarkable  man,  with  two 
companions.  We  had  rather  a  pleasant  dinner. 

Next  day  was  Sunday,  and  I  called  on  the  padre 
and  went  to  church.  After  this  I  spent  a  pleasant 
afternoon  under  the  Commendador's  orange  trees  with 
the  tangerines.  I  collected  plants  and  roots  to  send 
back  to  Mrs.  Gordon  at  Morro  Velho,  and  was  escorted 
by  the  padre,  the  chief  manager  of  the  company, 
and  the  head  gardener,  who  cut  them  for  me.  Here 
we  found  the  three  Southerners,  who  joined  us,  and 
we  had  a  violent  political  discussion. 

The  coach  left  Juiz  de  Fora  the  next  morning  at 
6.30.  To-day  as  well  as  yesterday  I  was  compelled, 
much  against  the  grain,  to  go  inside  by  Richard's 
express  wish  at  parting.  At  the  station  I  met  Captain 
Treloar  on  his  way  home,  much  better  in  spirits.  He 
wished  me  very  much  to  return  with  him,  which  I 
declined  with  thanks. 

We  soon  came  upon  the  winding  river  Parahybuna. 
We  took  up  three  Brazilian  ladies,  who  were  dread- 
fully frightened  of  the  wild  mules  and  speed,  and  also 
of  the  dust,  and  wanted  to  close  the  windows  in  spite 
of  the  sickening  heat ;  but  I  persuaded  them  otherwise. 
They  wanted  my  place  because  it  faced  the  mules, 
and  also  wished  that  I  should  make  them  a  present 
of  my  aromatic  vinegar.  They  consisted  of  a  young 
married  woman,  whose  husband,  a  mere  boy,  was  on 


flttoe  to  1Rfo  339 

the  top  of  the  coach,  and  she  was  chaperoning  two 
raw  young  girl  cousins  on  a  visit  to  her  fazenda  at 
some  distance.  By-and-by  the  boy  husband  got  too 
hot  outside,  and  was  crammed  in  with  us,  five  persons 
when  three  were  more  than  enough,  especially  young 
people,  who  sprawl  about. 

Once  more  we  arrived  under  the  great  granite 
mountain  which  overshadows  the  station  of  Para- 
hybuna.  At  2.30  we  put  down  the  Brazilian  ladies, 
who  mounted  horses  and  rode  somewhere  into  the 
interior,  and  I  was  thankful  for  the  space  and 
coolness. 

Then  we  reached  Posse,  where  we  took  in  a  strapping 
German  girl  with  big,  flat  feet,  who  trod  all  the  way 
upon  mine.  The  German  Protestant  parson  had 
started  with  me  from  Juiz  de  Fora,  but  he  had  to  give 
up  his  place  to  the  Brazilian  ladies,  and  gladly  resumed 
it  when  they  left,  as  the  heat  outside  was  considerable, 
and  besides  which  he  practised  his  little  English  upon 
me.  Soon  after  Posse  arose  the  second  wall  of  granite, 
and  the  scenery  became  doubly  beautiful  and  the  air 
cooler.  We  saw  the  sun  set  behind  the  mountains, 
and  the  scenery  was  fairyland  and  the  air  delicious ; 
it  was  an  evening  one  could  not  forget  for  many 
weeks. 

I  arrived  at  Petropolis  at  7  p.m.,  where  I  got  a  hearty 
welcome  and  a  good  dinner,  went  to  bed,  and  slept  as 
soundly  as  a  person  would  who  had  been  out  in  the 
sun  for  twelve  hours  and  had  driven  one  hundred 
miles.  This  did  not  prevent  my  starting  for  Rio  the 
next  morning  at  6  a.m. 


340      TTbe  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

The  morning  was  clear,  and  we  had  a  pleasant  drive 

down  the  mountains.     When  I  got  on  board  the  little 

steamer  to  cross  the  Bay  of  Rio,  I  hid    in  the  ladies' 

cabin,  for  I  was  ashamed  of  the  state  of  my  clothes. 

I  could  not  explain  to  people  why  I  was  so  remarkable, 

and  I  was  well  stared  at.     My  boots  were  in  shreds, 

my  only  dress  had  about  forty  slits  in  it,  my  hat  was 

in  ribbons,  while  my  face  was  of  a  reddish  mahogany 

hue  and  much  swollen  with  exposure.     I  was  harassed 

by  an  old  Brazilian  lady  in  the  cabin,  who  asked  me 

every  possible  question  on  earth  about  England  ;  and 

at  last,  when  she  asked  me  if  we  had  got  any  bacalhao 

(dried  cod),  to  get  rid  of  her  I  said  "  No !  "     Then 

she  said  she  could  not  think  much  of  a  country  that 

had  no  bacalhao^  to  which  I  returned  no  reply. 

On  arriving  at  Rio,  I  was  told  that  the  Estrangeiros 
Hotel,  where  I  had  left  my  maid  and  my  luggage 
before  starting  for  the  interior  three  months  previously, 
was  full.  As  I  did  not  want  to  be  seen  about  Rio 
in  such  a  plight,  I  waited  till  dusk,  and  then  went  to 
the  next  best  hotel  in  the  town.  The  landlord,  seeing 
a  ragged  woman,  did  not  recognize  me,  and  he  pointed 
to  a  little  tavern  across  the  road  where  sailors'  wives 
were  wont  to  lodge,  and  said,  "I  think  that  will  be 
about  your  place,  my  good  woman,  not  here."  "  Well," 
I  said,  "  I  think  I  am  coming  in  here  all  the  same." 
Wondering,  he  took  me  upstairs  and  showed  me  a 
garret ;  but  I  would  have  none  of  it,  and  insisted  on 
seeing  his  best  rooms.  There  I  stopped  and  said, 
"  This  will  do.  Be  kind  enough  to  send  this  letter 
for  me  to  the  Estrangeiros." 


Presently  down  came  my  maid,  who  was  a  great 
swell,  with  my  luggage  and  letters.  After  a  bath  and 
change  of  garments  I  rang  the  bell  and  ordered  supper. 
The  landlord  came  up  himself,  as  I  was  so  strange  a 
being.  When  he  saw  me,  he  said,  "  Did  that  woman 
come  to  take  apartments  for  you,  madam?  I  beg 
your  pardon,  I  am  afraid  I  was  rather  rude  to  her." 
"  Well,"  I  said,  "  I  am  '  that  woman '  myself ;  but  you 
need  not  apologize,  because  I  saw  myself  in  the  glass, 
and  I  don't  wonder  at  it."  He  nearly  tumbled  down  ; 
and  when  I  explained  how  I  came  to  be  in  such  a 
plight,  he  begged  my  pardon  till  I  was  quite  tired  of 
hearing  him. 

I  spent  the  next  few  days  resting  my  still  weak  foot, 
and  reading  and  answering  a  sackful  of  welcome  letters 
from  home,  which  had  accumulated  during  my  three 
months'  absence.  Then  I  went  down  to  Santos. 


CHAPTER  IX 

HOME  AGAIN 
(1867—1869) 

Home!  there  is  magic  in  that  little  word; 
It  is  a  mystic  circle  that  surrounds 
Pleasures  and  comforts  never  known  beyond 
Its  hallowed  limits. 

T  SABEL  did  not  remain  long  at  Santos.  At  the  end 
J_  of  October  she  went  up  to  Rio  to  gain  news  of 
her  husband,  of  whom  she  had  heard  nothing  since  they 
parted  at  Ro^a  Grande  nearly  four  months  before,  when 
he  started  in  his  canoe  down  the  Rio  Sao  Francisco. 
As  he  did  not  return,  she  was  naturally  anxious.  She 
wrote  to  her  mother : 

"  I  have  come  down  to  Rio  to  meet  Richard.  The 
English  steamer  from  Bahia  came  in  on  November  i. 
I  was  in  a  great  state  of  joyful  excitement  ;  went  on 
board  in  a  man-of-war's  boat.  But,  as  once  before 
when  I  went  to  Liverpool,  Richard  was  not  there,  nor 
was  there  any  letter  or  anything.  I  am  very  uneasy, 
and  unless  within  two  or  three  weeks  some  news  comes 
I  shall  start  to  Bahia  by  steamer,  change  for  the  small 
one  to  Penedo  Alagoas,  and  thence  to  a  tiny  one  just 
put  on  from  Penedo  up  the  river  to  the  falls,  which  are 

342 


•fcorne  H0atn  343 

scarcely  known  yet  [Paulo  Affbnso  Falls,  the  Niagara 
of  Brazil].  Here  my  difficulties  would  be  great,  as  I 
should  have  to  buy  mules  and  ride  round  an  un- 
navigable  port  and  then  canoe  up.  I  fear  Richard  is  ill, 
or  taken  prisoner,  or  has  his  money  stolen.  He  always 
would  carry  gigantic  sums  in  his  pockets,  hanging  half 
out ;  and  he  only  has  four  slaves  with  him,  and  has  to 
sleep  amongst  them.  I  am  not  afraid  of  anything 
except  the  wild  Indians,  fever,  ague,  and  a  vicious  fish 
which  can  be  easily  avoided ;  there  are  no  other 
dangers.  However,  I  trust  that  news  may  soon  come. 
I  cannot  remain  here  so  long  by  myself  as  another 
month.  I  had  a  narrow  escape  bathing  the  day  before 
yesterday.  What  I  thought  was  a  big  piece  of  sea- 
weed was  a  ground  shark  a  few  yards  from  me  ;  but  it 
receded  instead  of  coming  at  me.  I  shall  feel  rather 
shy  of  the  water  in  future." 

As  the  steamers  came  in  from  Bahia  Isabel  went  on 
board  them  one  after  another  in  the  hope  of  greeting 
her  husband  ;  but  still  he  did  not  come.  At  last,  when 
she  had  made  herself  quite  ill  with  anxiety,  and  when 
she  had  fully  determined  to  start  in  search  of  him,  he 
turned  up  unexpectedly — of  course  by  the  one  steamer 
which  she  did  not  meet — and  he  was  quite  angry  that 
she  had  not  come  on  board  to  greet  him.  After  telling 
her  all  his  adventures  while  canoeing  down  the  river 
(which  have  been  fully  described  elsewhere x),  they  went 
down  to  Santos. 

They  moved  about  between  Santos  and  Sao  Paulo  for 
the  next  four  months,  until,  in  April,  1868,  Burton  broke 

1  The  Highlands  of  Brazil,  by  Richard  Burton. 


344       ftbe  TRomauce  ot  Isabel  Xat>g  Burton 

down.  The  climate  at  last  proved  too  much  even  for 
his  iron  frame,  and  he  had  a  very  severe  illness  ;  how 
severe  it  was  may  be  gathered  from  the  following  letter : 

"  SAO  PAULO,  May  3,  1868. 

"  MY  DEAREST  MOTHER, 

"  I  have  been  in  the  greatest  trouble  since  I  last 
wrote.  You  may  remember  Richard  was  very  ill  with 
a  pain  in  the  side.  At  last  he  took  to  incessant 
paroxysms  of  screaming,  and  seemed  to  be  dying,  and  I 
knew  not  what  to  do.  Fortunately  a  doctor  came  from 
Rio  on  the  eighth  day  of  his  illness.  I  sent  at  once  to 
him,  and  he  kindly  took  up  his  quarters  in  our  house. 
On  hearing  my  account,  and  examining  Richard,  he 
said  he  did  not  know  if  he  could  save  him,  but  would 
do  his  best.  He  put  twelve  leeches  on,  and  cupped 
him  on  the  right  breast,  lanced  him  in  thirty-eight 
places,  and  put  on  a  powerful  blister  on  the  whole  of 
that  side.  He  lost  an  immense  deal  of  black  clotted 
blood.  It  would  be  impossible  to  detail  all  we  have 
gone  through.  This  is  the  tenth  day  the  doctor  has 
had  him  in  hand,  and  the  seventeenth  of  his  illness. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  the  remedies  have  been  legion,  and 
there  has  been  something  to  do  every  quarter  of  an 
hour  day  and  night.  For  three  days  the  doctor  was 
uncertain  if  he  could  live.  The  disease  is  one  that  grows 
upon  you  unconsciously,  and  you  only  know  it  when  it 
knocks  you  down.  It  was  congestion  of  the  liver, 
combined  with  inflammation  of  the  lung,  where  they 
join.  The  agony  was  fearful,  and  poor  Richard  could 
not  move  hand  or  foot,  nor  speak,  swallow,  or  breathe 


Dome  Hgain  345 

without  a  paroxysm  of  pain  that  made  him  scream  for 
a  quarter  of  an  hour.  When  I  thought  he  was  dying, 
I  took  the  scapulars  and  some  holy  water,  and  I  said, 
'  The  doctor  has  tried  all  his  remedies  ;  now  let  me  try 
one  of  mine.'  I  put  some  holy  water  on  his  head, 
and  knelt  down  and  said  some  prayers,  and  put  on  the 
blessed  scapulars.  He  had  not  been  able  to  raise  his 
head  for  days  to  have  the  pillow  turned,  but  he  raised 
it  of  his  own  accord  sufficiently  to  let  the  string  pass 
under  his  head,  and  had  no  pain.  It  was  a  silent 
consent.  He  was  quite  still  for  about  an  hour,  and  then 
he  said  in  a  whisper,  f  Zoo,  I  think  I'm  a  little  better.' 
From  then  to  now  he  slowly  and  painfully  got  better, 
and  has  never  had  a  bad  paroxysm  since.  Day  and  night 
I  have  watched  by  his  bed  for  seventeen  days  and 
nights,  and  I  begin  to  feel  very  nervous,  as  I  am  quite 
alone  ;  he  won't  let  any  one  do  anything  for  him  but 
me.  Now,  however,  thank  God !  all  the  symptoms  are 
disappearing  ;  he  is  out  of  danger  ;  he  can  speak  better, 
swallow,  and  turn  a  little  in  bed  with  my  help.  To-day 
I  got  him  up  in  a  chair  for  half  an  hour  for  the  first 
time,  and  he  has  had  chicken  broth.  For  fifteen  days 
nothing  passed  his  lips  but  medicine.  He  is  awfully 
thin  and  grey,  and  looks  about  sixty.  He  is  quite 
gaunt,  and  it  is  sad  to  look  at  him.  The  worst  of  it  is 
that  I'm  afraid  that  his  lungs  will  never  be  quite  right 
again.  He  can't  get  the  affected  lung  well  at  all.  His 
breathing  is  still  impeded,  and  he  has  a  twinge  in  it. 
He  cannot  go  to  England  because  of  the  cold  ;  but  if  he 
is  well  enough  in  three  months  from  this  to  spare  me, 
I  am  to  go  and  remain  till  Easter.  He  has  given  up 


346      TTbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

his  expedition  (I  am  afraid  he  will  never  make  another), 
but  will  take  a  quiet  trip  down  to  the  River  Plata  and 
Paraguay  (a  civilized  trip).  My  servants  have  all  been 
very  kind  and  attentive,  and  our  doctor  excellent,  and 
the  neighbours  have  all  shown  the  greatest  kindness  and 
sympathy.  I  have  not  been  out  of  the  house  for  ages, 
but  I  believe  there  have  been  all  sorts  of  religious  fetes 
going  on,  and  our  poor  old  bishop  has  died  and  was 
buried  with  great  pomp.  I  tried  to  go  out  in  the 
garden  yesterday,  but  I  nearly  fainted,  and  had  to  come 
back.  Don't  mention  my  fatigue  or  health  in  writing 
back." 

Burton  recovered  slowly.  His  illness,  however,  had 
the  effect  of  disgusting  him  with  Brazil,  and  of  making 
him  decide  to  throw  up  his  consulate,  a  thing  he  had 
long  been  wishing  to  do,  if  a  favourable  opportunity 
presented  itself.  The  present  was  a  decidedly  unfavour- 
able opportunity,  but  nevertheless  he  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  he  could  not  stand  Brazil  any  longer. 
"  It  had  given  him  his  illness  ;  it  was  far  from  the 
world  ;  it  was  no  advancement ;  it  led  to  nothing."  He 
had  been  there  three  years,  and  he  wanted  to  be  on 
the  move  again. 

His  slightest  wish  was  his  wife's  law.  Though  she  was 
in  a  way  sorry,  for  Sao  Paulo  had  been  the  only  home 
she  had  ever  enjoyed  with  her  husband  so  far,  she  at 
once  set  to  work  to  carry  out  his  desire.  She  sold 
up  everything  at  Sao  Paulo.  Burton  applied  to  the 
Foreign  Office  for  leave  ;  and  that  obtained,  they  went 
down  to  Santos  together.  Here  it  was  decided  that 


ftomc  H0atn  347 

they  should  part  for  a  time.  He  was  to  go  to  the  Pacific 
coast  for  a  trip,  and  return  by  way  of  the  Straits  of 
Magellan,  Buenos  Ay  res,  and  Rio  to  London.  Isabel 
was  to  go  direct  to  London,  see  if  she  could  not  induce 
the  Foreign  Office  to  give  him  another  post,  transact 
certain  business  concerning  mines  and  company  pro- 
moters, arrange  for  the  publication  of  certain  books, 
and  await  the  arrival  of  her  husband. 

While  they  were  at  Santos  Isabel  wrote  the  following 
letter  to  her  mother  : 

"THE  COAST  NEAR  SANTOS,  June  16,  1868. 

"  In  this  country,  if  you  are  well,  all  right ;  but 
the  moment  you  are  ailing,  lie  down  and  die,  for  it '  is 
no  use  trying  to  live.  I  kept  Richard  alive  by  never 
taking  my  eyes  off  him  for  eight  weeks,  and  perpetually 
standing  at  the  bedside  with  one  thing  or  another.  But 
who  in  a  general  way  will  get  any  one  to  do  that  for 
them  ?  I  would  now  like  to  pass  to  something  more 
cheerful. 

"  The  first  regatta  ever  known  took  place  at  Santos 
last  Sunday  for  all  nations — English,  American,  French, 
German,  Portuguese,  and  Brazilian,  and  native  caiques  : 
English  and  American  in  white  flannel  and  black  belts  ; 
German,  scarlet ;  French,  blue  ;  Portuguese,  white 
with  blue  belts  and  caps ;  Brazilians,  like  parrots,  in 
national  costume,  all  green,  with  yellow  fixings  and 
scarlet  caps.  Our  boat  was  of  course  expected  to  win. 
It  was  manned  by  four  railway  clerks,  who  had  ordered 
a  big  supper  on  the  strength  of  the  winnings  ;  but,  poor 
things !  they  had  such  weak  arms,  and  they  boasted 


348       ttbe  Romance  of  Isabel  Xat>s  JSurton 

and  talked  so  much,  that  they  were  exhausted  before 
they  started.  The  'English  ladies'  (?)  objected  to 
their  rowing  in  jerseys,  as  improper  !  And  they  did 
not  know  how  to  feather  their  oars  (had  perhaps  never 
heard  of  it),  so  they  came  in  last.  The  Portuguese,  who 
stepped  quietly  into  their  boat  without  a  word,  came  in 
first,  Brazil  second,  German  third,  and  the  three  big 
nations,  French,  American,  and  English,  last.  We  last 
by  half  a  boat's  length  !  Tremendous  fighting  and 
quarrelling  ensued,  red  and  angry  faces,  and  '  bargee ' 
language.  I  am  very  glad  ;  it  will  produce  a  good 
feeling  on  the  Brazilian  side,  a  general  emulation,  and 
take  our  English  snobs  down  a  peg,  which  they  sadly 
want.  The  native  caiques  were  really  pretty — black 
men  with  paddles  standing  upright,  and  all  moving 
together  like  a  machine. 

"I  leave  Sao  Paulo  on  the  3ist,  Santos  on  the  ist, 
Rio  on  the  pth,  and  will  reach  home  early  in  September. 
I  could  not  stay  here  any  longer  without  a  change.  I 
think  you  had  better  leave  town  for  your  country 
change  now,  as  I  cannot  leave  London  earlier  than  the 
middle  of  October.  All  my  wealth  depends  on  my 
editing  a  book  and  a  poem  of  Richard's  and  two  things 
of  my  own  for  the  October  press ;  and,  moreover,  I  am 
grown  so  fat  and  coarse  and  vulgar  I  must  brush  myself 
up  in  town  a  little  before  appearing,  and  I  have  no 
clothes,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  faint  when  you  see  my 
complexion  and  my  hands.  So  try  and  start  early  out 
of  town,  and  return  early.  I  can  join  in  any  fun  in 
October.  I  got  your  little  note  from  Cossy.  I  dare  say 
the  woods  are  very  nice  ;  but  I  think  if  you  saw  the 


1bome  H0ain  349 


virgin  forests  of  South  America  in  which  I  am  now 
sitting  alone,  far  from  any  human  creature,  with  gaudy- 
butterflies  and  birds  fluttering  around  me,  big  vegeta- 
tion, and  a  shark  playing  in  the  boiling  green  sea,  which 
washes  up  to  my  feet,  and  the  bold  mountain  back- 
ground on  a  very  blue  sky,  the  thick  foliage  covered 
with  wild  flowers  and  creepers  such  as  no  hothouse  in 
England  could  grow,  arum  leaves,  one  alone  bigger 
than  me,  which  shade  me  from  the  burning  sun,  the 
distant  clatter  of  monkeys,  the  aromatic  smells  and 
mysterious  whisperings  of  the  forest,  you  would  own 
that  even  the  Cossy  woods  were  tame  ;  for  to  be 
thoroughly  alone  thus  with  Nature  is  glorious.  Chico 
is  cooking  a  mysterious  mess  in  a  gypsy  kettle  for  me  ; 
my  pony  is  browsing  near  ;  and  I,  your  affectionate 
child,  am  sitting  in  a  short  petticoat  and  jacket,  bare- 
legged to  the  knees,  writing  to  you  and  others  to  catch 
the  next  mail. 

"  Richard  starts  with  me,  and  turns  the  opposite  way 
from  Rio.  He  goes  via  Rosario,  Rio  Grande  do  Sul, 
Buenos  Ayres,  Monte  Video,  the  Plata  River,  and 
Paraguay,  to  see  the  war.  A  voyage  de  luxe  for  him, 
for  these  places  are  all  within  writing  latitudes  and 
some  little  civilization." 

On  July  24  Isabel  embarked  for  London,  and  arrived 
at  Southampton  on  September  i,  after  a  rough  voyage. 
Her  mother  and  two  of  her  sisters  came  down  to 
Southampton  to  meet  her  ;  and  great  was  the  joy  of 
their  meeting. 

As  soon  as  Isabel  had  settled  down   at  home  she 


35°      'Cbc  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

turned  to  her  work,  and  good  luck  attended  her. 
She  carried  through  all  her  husband's  mining  business, 
and  arranged  for  the  publication  of  his  books,  notably 
for  the  one  he  had  just  written  on  'The  Highlands  of 
'Brazil.  As  it  was  to  be  brought  out  at  once,  she 
was  also  commissioned  to  correct  and  pass  the  proofs 
for  press.  She  did  so  ;  but  as  the  book  contained  certain 
things  of  which  she  did  not  approve,  she  inserted  the 
following  preface  in  the  book  by  way  of  protest.  It 
is  quoted  in  full,  because  it  illustrates  a  much-vexed 
question — the  attitude  which  she  adopted  towards  her 
husband's  writings.  Her  action  in  these  matters  has 
called  down  upon  her  the  fiercest  criticism  ;  but  this 
brief  preface  shows  that  her  views  were  consistent 
throughout,  and  her  husband  was  fully  aware  of  them 
when  he  left  her  his  sole  literary  executor. 

Before  the  reader  dives  into  the  interior  of  Brazil  with  my 
husband  as  a  medium,  let  me  address  two  words  to  him. 

I  have  returned  home,  on  six  months'  leave  of  absence,  after 
three  years  in  Brazil.  One  of  the  many  commissions  I  am  to 
execute  for  Captain  Burton  is  to  see  the  following  pages  through 
the  press. 

It  has  been  my  privilege,  during  those  three  years,  to  have  been 
his  almost  constant  companion ;  and  I  consider  that  to  travel, 
write,  read,  and  study  under  such  a  master  is  no  small  boon  to 
any  one  desirous  of  seeing  and  learning. 

Although  he  frequently  informs  me,  in  a  certain  oriental  way, 
that  "  the  Moslem  can  permit  no  equality  with  women,"  yet  he 
has  chosen  me,  his  pupil,  for  this  distinction,  in  preference  to  a 
more  competent  stranger. 

As  long  as  there  is  anything  difficult  to  do,  a  risk  to  be  incurred, 
or  any  chance  of  improving  the  mind  and  of  educating  oneself,  I 
am  a  very  faithful  disciple ;  but  I  now  begin  to  feel  that,  while 


LADY    BURTON    IN     1869. 


[Page  350. 


Dome  Hcjain  35 ' 

he  and  his  readers  are  old  friends,  I  am  humbly  standing 
unknown  in  the  shadow  of  his  glory.  It  is  therefore  time  for 
me  respectfully  but  firmly  to  assert  that,  although  I  proudly 
accept  of  the  trust  confided  to  me,  and  pledge  myself  not  to 
avail  myself  of  my  discretionary  powers  to  alter  one  word  of 
the  original  text,  I  protest  vehemently  against  his  religious 
and  moral  sentiments,  which  belie  a  good  and  chivalrous  life. 
I  point  the  finger  of  indignation  particularly  at  what  misrepre- 
sents our  Holy  Roman  Catholic  Church,  and  at  what  upholds 
that  unnatural  and  repulsive  law,  Polygamy,  which  the  Author  is 
careful  not  to  practise  himself,  but  from  a  high  moral  pedestal 
he  preaches  to  the  ignorant  as  a  means  of  population  in  young 
countries. 

I  am  compelled  to  differ  with  him  on  many  other  subjects;  but, 
be  it  understood,  not  in  the  common  spirit  of  domestic  jar,  but 
with  a  mutual  agreement  to  differ  and  enjoy  our  differences, 
whence  points  of  interest  never  flag. 

Having  now  justified  myself,  and  given  a  friendly  warning  to 
a  fair  or  gentle  reader — the  rest  must  take  care  of  themselves — 
I  leave  him  or  her  to  steer  through  these  anthropological  sand- 
banks and  hidden  rocks  as  best  he  or  she  may. 

Isabel's  greatest  achievement  at  this  time  was  the 
obtaining  for  her  husband  the  long-coveted  Consulship 
of  Damascus  from  Lord  Stanley,  who  was  an  old  friend 
and  neighbour  of  her  uncle,  Lord  Gerard.  Lord  Stanley 
(afterwards  Lord  Derby)  was  then  Foreign  Secretary 
in  Disraeli's  brief  first  Administration.  He  was  a 
friend  of  the  Burtons,  and  had  a  high  opinion  of  them 
both.  To  him  Isabel  repaired,  and  brought  the  whole 
of  her  eloquence  and  influence  to  bear  :  no  light  thing, 
as  Burton's  enemies — and  he  had  hiany — guessing 
what  she  was  after,  endeavoured  to  influence  the 
Foreign  Secretary  by  representing  that  his  appointment 
would  be  unpopular,  both  with  the  Moslems  and  the 


35*       ft  be  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

Christian  missionaries  in  Syria.  In  Lord  Stanley 's 
opinion,  however,  Burton  was  the  man  for  the  post,  and 
he  appointed  him  Consul  of  Damascus,  with  a  salary  of 
£  1,000  a  year.  Isabel  telegraphed  and  wrote  the  glad 
news  ;  but  neither  her  letter  nor  her  telegram  reached 
her  husband,  who  was  then  roving  about  South  America. 
Burton  heard  the  news  of  his  appointment  accidentally 
in  a  cafe  at  Lucca.  He  telegraphed  at  once  accepting 
it,  and  started  for  England. 

In  the  meantime  there  had  been  a  change  of  Govern- 
ment, and  Lord  Clarendon  succeeded  Lord  Stanley 
at  the  Foreign  Office.  Burton's  enemies  renewed 
their  opposition  to  his  appointment,  and  besought 
Lord  Clarendon  to  cancel  it.  Isabel,  whose  vigilance 
never  slumbered  for  one  moment,  got  wind  of  this, 
and  immediately  dispatched  copies  of  the  following 
letter  to  her  husband  at  Rio,  Buenos  Ayres,  and 
Valparaiso  : 

"  LONDON,  January  7,  1869. 

"My  DARLING, 

"  If  you  get  this,  come  home  at  once  by  shortest 
way.  Telegraph  from  Lisbon  and  Southampton,  and 
I  will  meet  you  at  latter  and  have  all  snug. 

"  Strictly  private.  The  new  Government  have  tried 
to  upset  some  of  the  appointments  made  by  the  last. 
There  is  no  little  jealousy  about  yours.  Others  wanted 
it  even  at  ^700  a  year,  and  were  refused.  Lord 
Stanley  thinks,  and  so  do  I,  that  you  may  as  well  be 
on  the  ground  as  soon  as  possible. 

"  Your  faithful  and  attached  wife." 


Thome  Haatn  353 

Burton  did  not  receive  this  letter,  as  he  had  already 
started  for  home  with  all  speed.  His  wife  met  him 
at  Southampton.  Burton  went  to  the  Foreign  Office, 
and  had  a  long  interview  with  Lord  Clarendon, 
who  told  him  that  the  objections  to  his  appointment 
at  Damascus  were  "very  serious."  Burton  assured 
Lord  Clarendon  that  the  objections  raised  were  un- 
founded. Lord  Clarendon  then  let  the  appointment 
go  forward,  though  he  plainly  warned  Burton  that, 
if  the  feeling  stated  to  exist  against  him  at  Damascus 
should  prevent  the  proper  performance  of  his  official 
duties,  he  would  immediately  recall  him.  It  is 
necessary  to  call  attention  to  this,  as  it  has  a  direct 
bearing  on  the  vexed  question  of  Burton's  recall  two 
years  later. 

No  shadow  of  that  untoward  event,  however,  dimmed 
the  brightness  of  Burton's  prospects  just  now.  He 
gave  an  assurance  that  he  would  act  with  "  unusual 
prudence,"  and  it  was  hinted  that  if  he  succeeded 
at  Damascus  he  might  eventually  get  Morocco  or 
Teheran  or  Constantinople.  Isabel  writes  :  "We  were, 
in  fact,  at  the  zenith  of  our  career."  She  might  well 
think  so,  for  they  were  basking  in  the  unaccustomed 
light  of  the  official  favour ;  they  received  a  most  en- 
thusiastic welcome  from  their  friends,  and  were  dined 
and  feted  everywhere.  The  new  year  (1869)  opened 
most  auspiciously  for  them. 

They  spent  the  spring  in  London  and  in  paying  a 
round  of  visits  to  many  friends.  Later  they  crossed 
over  to  Boulogne,  and  visited  the  old  haunts  where 
they  met  for  the  first  time  eighteen  years  before. 

23 


354      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  JSurton 

Burton's  leave  was  now  running  short,  and  the  time 
was  drawing  near  when  he  was  due  at  Damascus.  He 
decided  to  go  to  Vichy  and  take  a  month's  course  of 
the  waters,  and  then  proceed  via  Brindisi  to  Damascus. 
His  wife  was  to  come  out  to  Damascus  later.  At 
Boulogne  therefore  they  parted  ;  he  went  to  Vichy, 
and  she  was  to  return  to  London  and  carry  out  the 
usual  plan  of  "  pay,  pack,  and  follow." 

Isabel  went  round  by  way  of  Paris,  and  then  she 
began  to  feel  unhappy  at  being  separated  from  her 
husband,  and  to  want  to  join  him  at  Vichy.  "I  did 
not  see  why  I  could  not  have  the  month  there  with 
him,  and  make  up  double-quick  time  after."  So 
instead  of  returning  to  London,  she  started  off  for 
Vichy,  and  spent  the  month  there  with  her  husband. 
Algernon  Swinburne  and  Frederick  Leighton  (both 
great  friends  of  the  Burtons)  were  there  also,  and 
they  made  many  excursions  together.  When  Burton's 
ce  cure "  was  at  an  end,  his  wife  accompanied  him  as 
far  as  Turin.  Here  they  parted,  he  going  to  catch 
the  P.  &  O.  at  Brindisi,  en  route  for  Damascus,  and 
she  returning  to  London  to  arrange  and  settle  every- 
thing for  a  long  sojourn  in  the  East. 

She  was  in  England  for  some  weeks  (the  autumn  of 
1869),  and  up  to  her  eyes  in  work.  She  had  to  see 
a  great  many  publishers  for  one  thing,  and  for  another 
she  was  busy  in  every  way  preparing  herself  for 
Damascus.  She  went  down  to  Essex  to  see  the  tube- 
wells  worked,  and  mastered  the  detail  of  them,  as 
Burton  was  anxious,  if  possible,  to  produce  water  in  the 
desert.  She  also  took  lessons  in  taking  off  wheels  and 


Dome  Haatn  355 

axles,  oiling  and  putting  them  on  again  ;  and  lessons 
in  taking  her  own  guns  and  pistols  to  pieces,  cleaning 
and  putting  them  together  again.  Then  she  had  to 
buy  a  heap  of  useful  and  necessary  things  to  stock  the 
house  at  Damascus  with.  One  of  her  purchases  almost 
rivalled  her  famous  "  jungle  suit."  She  invested  in  a 
pony-carriage,  a  thing  unheard  of  in  Syria  ;  and  her 
uncle,  Lord  Gerard,  also  made  her  a  present  of  an  old 
family  chariot.  This  tickled  the  late  Lord  Houghton 
immensely,  and  he  made  so  many  jokes  about  "  Isabel 
driving  through  the  desert  in  a  chariot  drawn  by 
camels  "  that  she  left  it.  But  she  took  out  the  pony- 
carriage  ;  and  as  there  was  only  one  road  in  the  country, 
she  found  it  useless,  though  she  was  lucky  enough  to 
sell  it  to  some  one  at  Damascus,  who  bought  it  not 
for  use,  but  as  a  curio. 

Other  work  of  a  different  nature  also  came  to 
her  hand,  the  work  of  vindicating  her  husband  and 
defending  his  position.  At  a  meeting  of  the  Royal 
Geographical  Society,  at  which  she  was  present,  Sir 
Roderick  Murchison,  who  was  in  the  chair,  spoke  of 
(<  Central  or  Equatorial  Africa,  in  which  lie  those  great 
water-basins  which,  thanks  to  the  labours  of  Speke, 
Grant ,  and  Baker,  are  known  to  feed  the  Nile."  After 
the  meeting  was  over  she  went  up  to  Sir  Roderick 
and  asked  him  why  Burton  had  not  been  mentioned 
with  the  others.  He  replied  it  was  an  oversight,  and 
he  would  see  that  it  was  rectified  in  the  reports  to 
the  press.  It  was  not.  So  she  wrote  to  'The  Times, 
protesting  against  the  omission  of  her  husband's  name, 
and  to  The  Athenaeum.  These  letters  have  been 


356       Gbe  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcp  JSurton 

published  in  her  Life  of  Sir  Richard.  But  the 
following  letter  from  Sir  Roderick  Murchison,  called 
forth  by  her  letter  to  'The  Times,  and  her  reply  thereto, 
have  not  been  published  : 

"  1 6,  BELGRAVE  SQUARE,  November  14,  1869. 

"  MY  DEAR  MRS.  BURTON, 

"  I  regret  that  you  did  not  call  on  me  as  you 
proposed,  instead  of  making  your  complaint  in  The 
'Times. 

"  No  change  in  the  wording  of  the  address  could 
have  been  made  when  you  appealed  to  me  ;  for  the 
printed  article  was  in  the  hands  of  several  reporters. 

"  Nor  can  I,  in  looking  at  the  address  (as  now 
before  me),  see  why  you  should  be  offended  at  my 
speaking  of  *  the  great  Lake  Tanganyika,  first  visited 
by  Burton  and  Speke.' 

"  My  little  opening  address  was  not  a  history  of  all 
African  discoveries  ;  and  if  you  will  only  refer  to  the 
twenty-ninth  volume  of  The  Journal  of  the  Royal 
Geographical  Society  (1859),  you  will  see  how,  in 
presenting  the  medal  to  your  husband  as  the  chief  of  the 
East  African  Expedition,  I  strove  to  do  him  all  justice 
for  his  successful  and  bold  explorations.  But  I  was 
under  the  necessity  of  coupling  Speke  with  Burton  as 
joint  discoverers  of  the  Lake  Tanganyika^  inasmuch  as 
they  both  worked  together  until  prostrated  by  illness  ; 
and  whilst  your  husband  was  blind  or  almost  so,  Speke 
made  all  the  astronomical  observations  which  fixed  the 
real  position  of  places  near  the  lake. 

"  Thus  your  husband,  in  his  reply  to  me  after  receiv- 


Dome  Haaln  357 


ing  the  medal,  says,  '  Whilst  I  undertook  the  history, 
ethnography,  the  languages  and  peculiarities  of  the  people, 
to  Captain  Speke  fell  the  arduous  task  of  delineating  the 
exact  topography  and  of  laying  down  our  positions  by 
astronomical  observations,  a  labour  to  which  at  times 
even  the  undaunted  Livingstone  found  himself  unequal  * 
(Journal  R.  G.  S.,  vol.  xxix.,  p.  97). 

"  I  beg  you  also  to  read  your  husband's  masterly 
and  eloquent  description  of  the  lake  regions  of  Central 
Equatorial  Africa  in  the  same  volume.  No  memoir  in 
our  journal  is  more  striking  than  this,  and  I  think  it 
will  gratify  you  to  have  Captain  Burton's  most  effective 
writing  brought  once  more  to  the  notice  of  geographers. 
I  will  with  great  pleasure  add  a  full  footnote  to  the 
paragraph  in  which  I  first  allude  to  the  Tanganyika, 
and  point  out  how  admirably  Captain  Burton  has  illus- 
trated that  portion  of  Lake  Tanganyika  which  he  and 
his  companion  visited  ;  though,  as  you  know,  he  was 
then  prostrated  by  illness  and  almost  blind. 

"  With  this  explanation,  which  will  appear  in  all  the 
official  and  public  copies  of  my  little,  imperfect,  opening 
address,  I  hope  you  will  be  satisfied,  and  exonerate  me 
from  any  thought  of  not  doing  full  justice  to  your 
meritorious  husband,  who,  if  he  had  been  in  health, 
would  doubtless  have  worked  out  the  path  which 
Livingstone  is  still  engaged  in  discovering  :  the  settle- 
ment of  whether  the  waters  of  Tanganyika,  flow  into 
the  said  discovered  Albert  Nyanza  by  Baker. 

"  Believe  me  to  be  ever,  dear  Mrs.  Burton, 
"  Yours  sincerely, 

"RODERICK  MURCHISON." 


358       Ube  TRomance  of  Ssabel  Xaos  Burton 

"14,  MONTAGU  PLACE,  MONTAGU  SQUARE,  W., 
"November  15,  1869. 

"DEAR  SIR  RODERICK, 

"  I  have  every  intention  of  calling  upon  you,  and 
I  think  you  know  I  have  always  looked  upon  you  as  a 
very  sincere  and  particular  friend  ;  nor  had  I  the  slightest 
idea  of  being  offended  with  you  ;  and  if  you  have  read 
my  letter,  you  will  have  seen  that  I  particularly  laid  a 
stress  upon  your  kindness  ;  but  what  you  and  I  know 
on  this  subject,  and  perhaps  many  connected  with  the 
Royal  Geographical  Society,  is  now,  considering  the 
fast  flow  of  events,  almost  ancient  history,  unless  brought 
before  the  public.  I  did  feel  nettled  the  other  night ; 
but  I  might  have  kept  quiet,  had  I  not  had  many  visits 
and  letters  of  condolence  on  my  husband  having  been 
passed  over.  I  then  felt  myself  obliged  to  remind  the 
public  what  the  Society  the  other  night  had  forgotten. 
Had  I  visited  you,  and  had  we  talked  it  over,  and  had 
the  reports  been  run  over  and  corrected,  it  would  hardly 
have  set  the  large  number  of  people  right  who  were  at 
the  meeting  of  last  Monday,  who  heard  Captain  Burton 
mentioned  only  once,  and  the  other  four  twenty  times. 
Indeed,  I  was  not  offended  at  the  only  mention  you 
did  make  of  him,  but  at  the  mention  of  the  other 
three,  excluding  him.  I  shall  be  truly  grateful  for  your 
proposed  notice  of  him.  And  do  not  think  I  grudge 
anything  t©  any  other  traveller.  I  am  glad  you  men- 
tioned Speke  with  him.  Speke  was  a  brave  man,  and 
full  of  fine  qualities.  I  grudge  his  memory  no  honour 
that  can  be  paid  ;  I  never  wish  to  detract  from  any  of 
the  great  merits  of  the  other  four.  I  only  ask  to 


•fcome  Bgafn  359 

maintain  my  husband's  right  place  amongst  them, 
which  is  only  second  to  Livingstone.  I  hope  I  shall 
see  you  in  a  few  days,  and 

"Believe  me,  most  sincerely  yours, 

"ISABEL  BURTON." 

A  month  later  all  her  business  was  completed,  and 
Isabel  left  London  for  Damascus,  to  enter  upon  the 
most  eventful  epoch  of  her  eventful  life. 


CHAPTER   X1 

MY  JOURNEY  TO  DAMASCUS 
(1869—1870) 

The  East  is  a  Career. 

DISRAELI'S  "  Tattered." 

1  SHALL  not  readily  forget  the  evening  of  Thursday, 
December  16,  1869.  I  had  a  terrible  parting 
from  my  dear  ones,  especially  from  my  mother.  As  a 
Frenchman  would  say,  "  Je  quittais  ma  mere."  We  all 
dined  together — the  last  dinner — at  five  o'clock,  and 
three  hours  later  I  set  out  for  the  station.  My  brothers 
and  sister  came  down  to  Victoria  to  see  me  off,  and 
at  the  last  moment  my  brother  Rudolph  decided  to 
accompany  me  to  Dover,  for  which  I  was  truly  thankful. 
It  was  a  wild  night,  and  the  express  to  Dover  rushed 
through  the  raging  winter  storm.  My  mind  was  a 
curious  mixture  of  exultation  and  depression,  and  with 
it  all  was  a  sense  of  supernormal  consciousness  that 
something  of  this  had  been  enacted  before.  About  a 
fortnight  previously  I  dreamed  one  of  my  curious 
dreams.  I  thought  that  I  came  to  a  small  harbour, 

1  The  chapters  on  Damascus  are  compiled  from  letters  and 
diaries  of  Lady  Burton,  and  from  some  of  the  rough  manuscript 
notes  from  which  she  wrote  her  Inner  Life  of  Syria. 

360 


Bournes  to  Damascus  361 

and  it  was  as  black  as  night,  and  the  wind  was  sobbing 
up  mournfully,  and  there  were  two  steamers  in  the 
harbour,  waiting.  One  refused  to  go  out,  but  the  other 
went,  and  came  to  grief.  So  in  the  train,  as  we  tore 
along,  I  prayed  silently  that  I  might  have  a  sign  from 
Heaven,  and  it  should  be  that  one  captain  should  refuse 
to  go.  Between  my  prayers  my  spirits  rose  and  fell. 
They  rose  because  my  destination  was  Damascus,  the 
dream  of  my  childhood.  I  should  follow  the  foot- 
steps of  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu,  Lady  Hester 
Stanhope,  the  Princess  de  la  Tour  d'Auvergne,  that 
trio  of  famous  European  women  who  lived  of  their 
own  choice  a  thoroughly  Eastern  life,  and  of  whom  I 
looked  to  make  a  fourth.  They  fell  because  I  was  leav- 
ing behind  me  my  home,  my  family,  and  many  dear 
ties  in  England,  without  any  definite  hope  of  return. 
We  arrived  at  Dover,  and  walked  to  the  boat,  and 
could  hardly  keep  on  our  legs  for  the  wind.  When  I 
set  out  to  embark,  lo  !  there  were  two  steamers.  The 
Ostend  boat  refused  to  go  out  ;  the  other  one  was 
preparing  to  start.  Now  I  was  most  anxious  to  sail 
without  an  hour's  delay,  but  I  turned  to  my  brother 
and  said,  "  Rody,  if  it  is  my  duty  to  go  I  will  go,  for 
I  do  not  like  to  stay  on  my  own  responsibility.  I 
am  scrupulous  about  Dick's  time  and  money,  and  he 
told  me  to  lose  no  time."  The  answer  was,  "  Duty 
be  damned  !  I  won't  let  you  go."  Still  I  hesitated,  and 
as  I  was  between  the  ways  an  old  sailor  stepped  out 
of  the  darkness  as  I  stood  on  the  quay,  and  said,  "  Go 
home,  missie  ;  I  haven't  seen  such  a  night  this  forty 
year."  I  remembered  my  dream,  and  decided. 


362       Ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xa&s  JSurton 


I  turned  into  the  nearest  shelter,  a  small  inn  opposite 
the  boats,  so  as  to  be  able  to  start  at  daylight  ;  and  the 
result  justified  my  foresight.  The  captain  of  the  first 
vessel,  by  which  I  had  intended  to  go,  went  out.  After 
shipping  awful  seas,  and  being  frightfully  knocked 
about,  he  moored  some  way  off  Calais  Pier  ;  but  the  sea 
and  the  wind  drove  the  boat  right  on  to  it,  and  carried 
away  one  of  the  paddles,  the  tiller,  and  hurt  several 
passengers.  The  waves  drove  her  backwards  and 
forwards  on  to  the  pier  like  a  nutshell  for  half  an  hour, 
and  she  was  nearly  going  down,  but  some  smacks  hauled 
her  off  and  out  to  sea  again.  She  beat  about  all  night, 
and  returned  to  Dover  in  a  pitiable  plight,  having 
neither  landed  the  passengers  nor  the  baggage. 

It  was  thus  I  met  her  when  I  embarked  on  the 
other  boat  at  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning.  The 
weather  was  terribly  rough  even  then,  but  at  least 
we  had  the  advantage  of  daylight.  We  had  a  rough 
passage,  the  sea  mountains  high  ;  but  we  reached  Calais 
eventually,  where  I  managed  to  get  some  food  at  the 
buffet,  such  as  it  was,  but  I  had  to  sit  on  the  floor  with 
a  plate  on  my  lap,  so  great  and  rude  was  the  crowd. 
The  boat  accident  caused  me  to  miss  my  proper  train 
to  Marseilles,  and  to  lose  two  of  my  many  trunks.  It 
would  almost  seem  as  if  some  malignant  spirit  had 
picked  these  two  trunks  out,  for  the  one  contained 
nearly  all  my  money,  and  the  other  all  my  little 
comforts  for  the  journey.  I  had  to  decide  at  once 
between  missing  my  passage  at  Marseilles  and  forsaking 
my  missing  trunks.  I  decided  to  go  on,  and  leave 
them  to  look  after  themselves.  Six  months  later  they 


Sourneg  to  Damascus  363 

turned  up  at  Damascus  safe  and  sound.  We  travelled 
through  the  weary  night  and  most  of  the  next  day,  and 
only  reached  Marseilles  at  5  p.m.,  after  having  met 
with  many  c ontretemps  and  discomforts.  I  at  once  went 
on  board,  arranged  my  cabin,  did  all  my  little  business, 
and  went  back  alone  to  the  hotel  to  have  a  hot  bath 
and  a  cutlet,  having  been  nearly  forty-eight  hours  on 
the  road  without  rest  or  stopping. 

Our  ship  was  one  of  the  P.  &  O.  floating  hotels, 
superbly  fitted.  We  steamed  out  from  Marseilles  at 
half-past  nine  the  next  morning.  It  was  a  great 
pleasure  to  exchange  the  fogs  and  cold  of  England 
for  the  climate  of  the  sunny,  smiling  south,  the  olive 
groves,  and  the  mother-o'-pearl  sea  ;  yet  these  beauties 
of  Nature  have  no  meaning  in  them  when  the  heart 
feels  lonely  and  desolate,  as  mine  did  then. 

Yet  on  the  whole  I  had  a  very  pleasant  passage  from 
Marseilles  to  Alexandria.  We  had  not  more  than  fifty 
passengers  on  board,  all  Anglo-Indians,  and  middling 
class.  I  got  a  very  nice  cabin  forward,  all  to  myself, 
with  my  maid.  The  ship  was  full  of  young  married 
couples  going  out  to  India.  They  were  not  used  to 
ships,  and  were  evidently  unaware  of  the  ventilators  at 
the  top  of  the  cabin,  so  at  night  one  got  the  full  benefit 
of  their  love-making.  One  night,  for  instance,  I  heard 
a  young  bride  fervently  calling  upon  her  "Joey"  to 
kiss  her.  It  was  amusing  at  first,  but  afterwards  it 
became  rather  monotonous.  I  did  not  know  a  soul  on 
board  with  whom  I  could  exchange  ideas,  and  I  kept 
as  much  as  possible  to  myself  without  appearing  rude. 
I  was  asked  to  choose  my  place  at  table,  and  I  humbly 


364       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xao£  Burton 

chose  one  some  way  down ;  but  the  captain  asked  me  to 
move  up  to  the  seat  of  honour  on  his  right  hand,  and  I 
felt  quite  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  distinction,  because 
not  a  soul  on  board  knew  anything  about  me.  I  did 
not  find  the  captain,  though,  a  bad  companion.  He  was 
a  short,  fat,  dark,  brisk  little  man,  just  the  sort  of  man  a 
captain  and  a  sailor  should  be.  I  am  glad  to  say  he 
had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  being  unduly  attentive. 
The  conversation  was  dull  at  table.  The  ladies  talked 
chiefly  about  Colonel  "This"  and  Captain  "That," 
peppering  their  conversation  with  an  occasional 
Hindustani  word,  a  spice  of  Anglo-Indian  gossip,  and 
plentiful  regimentalisms,  such  as  "  griffin,"  "  tiffen," 
"  the  Staff,"  and  "  gymkhana,"  all  of  which  was  Greek 
to  me. 

Take  it  all  round,  the  six  days'  passage  was  not  so 
bad.  I  particularly  admired  the  coast  of  Sicily,  the 
mountains  rising  one  above  another,  Etna  smoking  in 
the  distance,  the  sea  like  glass,  and  the  air  adding  a 
sensuous  charm,  a  soft,  balmy  breeze  like  the  Arabian 
seas.  Yet,  as  I  had  been  spoiled  by  Brazilian  scenery, 
I  did  not  go  into  the  same  ecstasies  over  it  as  my 
fellow-passengers.  We  spent  Christmas  Eve  as  our 
last  night  on  board.  In  the  evening  we  went  in  for 
snapdragon  and  other  festivities  of  the  season,  and 
tried  to  be  as  merry  as  we  could.  The  ship  could 
not  go  into  the  harbour  of  Alexandria  at  night ;  it  has  a 
dangerous  entrance  ;  so  we  sent  up  our  rockets  and  blue- 
lights,  and  remained  outside  the  lighthouse  till  dawn. 

On  Christmas  Day  morning  I  first  set  my  foot  on 
Eastern  ground.  We  steamed  into  the  harbour  of 


Sourneg  to  Damascus  365 

Alexandria  slowly ;  everybody  was  going  on  to  India 
except  me,  and  I  landed.  The  first  thing  I  did  was 
to  go  straight  to  a  telegraph  office  and  pay  nineteen 
shillings  and  sixpence  for  a  telegram  to  Richard  at 
Beyrout,  which  of  course  arrived  there  after  I  did.  I 
cannot  say  that  I  was  struck  with  Alexandria  ;  in  point 
of  fact,  I  mentally  called  it  "  a  hole,"  in  vulgar  parlance. 
I  went  to  the  Hotel  de  1'Europe,  a  second-rate  hotel, 
though  one  of  the  best  in  Alexandria.  It  was  not  so 
bad  as  might  have  been  expected.  In  the  afternoon 
we  made  a  party  up  to  see  Pompey's  Pillar  and 
Cleopatra's  Needle  and  the  bazars  and  other  things. 
But  I  am  bound  to  say  that,  on  the  whole,  I  thought 
Alexandria  "  neither  fish,  flesh,  fowl,  nor  good  red 
herring."  It  was  a  sort  of  a  jumble  of  Eastern 
and  Western,  and  the  worst  of  each.  The  only 
amusing  incident  which  happened  to  me  there  was 
when  two  dragomans  got  up  a  fictitious  quarrel  as  to 
who  should  take  me  to  the  bazars.  Of  course  they 
appealed  to  me,  and  I  said,  "  You  may  both  come,  but 
I  shall  only  pay  one."  Whereupon  they  fastened  upon 
each  other  tooth  and  nail,  tore  each  other's  clothes, 
and  bit  each  other's  cheeks.  These  two,  though  I 
never  suspected  it  at  the  time,  were,  it  appeared,  in 
the  habit  of  thus  dealing  with  ladies  and  missionaries 
and  amiable  English  tourists  ;  and  they  always  got  up 
this  farce,  because,  to  avoid  a  street  fight,  the  kind- 
hearted  looker-on  would  generally  employ  and  pay 
them  both,  and  perhaps  give  them  a  tip  in  addition 
to  calm  them  down.  But  I  innocently  did  the  right 
thing  without  knowing  it.  I  had  so  often  seen  negroes 


366       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 


fight  with  knives  in  Brazil  that  the  spectacle  of  two 
dragomans  biting  each  other's  cheeks  appeared  to  me 
to  be  supremely  ridiculous.  I  laughed,  and  waited 
patiently  until  one  of  them  pretended  to  be  very  much 
hurt.  Then  turning  to  the  other,  I  said,  "  You  seem 
the  better  man  ;  I  will  take  you  "  ;  and  they  were  both 
very  much  crestfallen. 

I  spent  the  evening  alone  in  my  small  room  at  the 
hotel.  A  strange  Christmas  truly. 

Next  morning  I  went  on  board  the  Russian  Ceres, 
which  was  bound  for  Beyrout,  a  three  days'  passage. 
It  was  an  uneventful  journey.  The  best  thing  about  the 
boat  was  the  caviare,  which  was  delicious.  The  deck 
was  simply  filthy,  as  it  was  crowded  with  Orientals 
from  every  part  of  the  East,  all  nations  and  creeds  and 
tongues.  But  it  was  the  most  interesting  part  of  the 
ship  to  me,  as  I  had  always  been  dreaming  of  the  East. 
Each  of  these  Eastern  families  had  their  mattresses  and 
their  prayer-carpets,  on  which  they  seemed  to  squat 
night  and  day.  No  matter  how  rough  or  how  sea-sick, 
they  were  always  there  saying  their  prayers,  or  devour- 
ing their  food,  or  dozing,  or  reclining  on  their  backs. 
Occasionally  they  chanted  their  devotions  through 
their  noses.  I  could  not  help  laughing  at  the  sound  ; 
and  when  I  laughed  they  did  the  same.  I  used  to 
bring  all  the  sweets  out  of  the  saloon  for  the  children, 
so  they  were  always  glad  to  see  me.  The  other 
passengers  thought  it  passing  strange  that  I  should 
elect  to  spend  the  whole  of  my  days  with  "  Eastern 
rabble." 

We  passed  Port  Said  and  got  to  Jaffa  in  about  two 


Journey  to  Damascus  367 

days.  I  was  not  impressed  with  Jaffa.  The  town 
looks  like  dirty,  well-rubbed  dice  running  down  the 
side  of  a  conical-shaped,  green  hill.  Here  I  sent 
another  telegram  to  Damascus  to  Richard — the  Russian 
Vice-Consul  kindly  took  charge  of  it — but  all  the  same 
it  never  reached  its  destination,  though  I  am  certain  it 
was  not  the  Consul's  fault.  At  Jaffa  we  picked  up 
an  Effendi  and  his  harim,  and  two  Italian  musicians, 
who  played  the  concertina  and  guitar.  The  latter  pair 
confided  in  me,  and  said  they  had  made  a  mariage  de 
cceur^  and  were  really  very  hard  up,  in  fact  dependent 
on  their  talent  ;  so  I  hit  on  a  plan  to  help  them.  I 
asked  the  captain  to  let  us  have  a  little  music  after 
breakfast  and  dinner.  They  played,  and  I  carried 
round  the  plate,  and  my  gleanings  paid  their  passage 
and  something  more.  As  for  the  Effendi's  harim 
she  was  carefully  veiled  and  wrapped  up  in  an  tzar,  or 
sheet,  and  confined  to  her  cabin,  except  when  she  was 
permitted  at  rare  intervals  to  appear  on  deck.  Her 
Effendi  jealously  watched  her  door,  to  see  that  nobody 
went  in  but  the  stewardess.  However,  she  freely 
unveiled  before  me.  I  was  not  impressed  with  her 
charms,  and  I  thought  what  a  fine  thing  the  sheet  and 
the  veil  would  be  to  some  of  our  European  women. 
There  is  an  irresistible  suggestion  of  concealed  charm 
about  them.  It  was  my  first  experience  of  a  real 
harim. 

On  the  third  day,  very  early,  we  anchored  off 
Beyrout.  The  town  as  viewed  from  the  water's  edge 
is  beautiful.  Its  base  is  washed  by  the  blue  Mediter- 
ranean. It  straggles  along  the  coast  and  crawls  up  part 


368       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaoy  JSurton 

of  the  lower  hills.  The  yellow  sand  beyond  the  town, 
and  the  dark  green  pine  forests  which  surround  it,  con- 
trast well  with  the  deep  blue  bay  and  the  turquoise 
skies.  It  is  backed  by  the  splendid  range  of  the 
Lebanon.  The  air  is  redolent  with  the  smell  of  pine 
wood.  Every  town  in  the  East  has  its  peculiar  odour, 
and  when  once  you  have  been  in  one  you  can  tell  it 
blindfold  afterwards.  I  went  ashore,  and  put  up  at  a 
clean  and  comfortable  hotel  facing  the  sea,  which  was 
kept  by  a  Greek.  This  hotel  later  on  came  to  be  to 
my  eyes  the  very  centre  of  civilization  ;  for  during  our 
sojourn  at  Damascus  Beyrout  was  our  Biarritz,  and 
this  little  hotel  the  most  luxurious  house  in  Syria. 
Here  I  had  breakfast,  and  after  that  I  called  on  our 
Consul-General.  His  wife  was  ill  in  bed,  but  he 
asked  me  kindly  to  remain  to  luncheon,  and  showed 
me  how  to  smoke  my  first  narghileh.  I  was  very 
anxious  to  start  at  once  for  Damascus,  but  the  diligence 
had  gone.  So  I  had  to  stop,  willy-nilly,  for  the  night 
at  Beyrout.  In  the  evening  the  Duchesse  de  Persigny 
arrived  from  Damascus,  and  sent  me  word  that  she 
would  like  to  dine  with  me.  Of  course  I  was  de- 
lighted. She  gave  me  some  news  of  Richard,  and 
enlivened  my  dinner  very  much  by  anecdotes  of 
Damascus.  She  was  a  very  witty,  eccentric  woman, 
as  every  one  knows  who  had  to  do  with  her  when 
she  was  in  England.  She  had  many  adventures  in 
Damascus,  which  she  related  to  me  in  her  racy, 
inimitable  way.  It  didn't  sound  so  bad  in  French, 
but  I  fear  her  humour  was  a  trifle  too  spicy  to 
bear  translation  into  plain  English  prose.  When  I 


/IDs  Sourneg  to  Damascus  369 

got  to  Damascus,  I  heard  a  good  deal  more  about  her 
"  goings  on"  there. 

I  went  to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep,  for  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  was  at  the  parting  of  the  ways.  To-morrow  I 
was  to  realize  the  dream  of  my  life.  I  was  to  leave 
behind  me  everything  connected  with  Europe  and  its 
petty  civilization,  and  wend  my  way  to  "  The  Pearl  of 
the  East."  As  soon  as  you  cross  the  Lebanon  Range 
you  quit  an  old  life  for  a  new  life,  you  forsake  the 
new  world  and  make  acquaintance  with  the  old  world, 
you  relapse  into  a  purely  oriental  and  primitive  phase 
of  existence. 

Early  the  next  morning  "  the  private  carriage " 
which  the  Consul-General  had  kindly  obtained  for  me, 
a  shabby  omnibus  drawn  by  three  old  screws,  made  its 
appearance.  I  was  to  drive  in  it  over  the  Lebanons, 
seventy-two  miles,  to  Damascus  ;  so  I  naturally  viewed 
it  with  interest,  not  unmingled  with  apprehension. 
Quite  a  little  crowd  assembled  to  see  me  off,  and 
watched  with  interest  while  my  English  maid,  a  large 
pet  St.  Bernard  dog,  my  baggage,  and  myself  were 
all  squeezed  into  the  omnibus  or  on  top  of  it.  The 
Consul-General  sent  his  kawwass  as  guard.  This 
official  appeared  a  most  gorgeous  creature,  with  silver- 
mounted  pistols  and  all  sorts  of  knives  and  dangling 
things  hanging  about  him.  He  rejoiced  in  the  name  of 
Sakharaddin,  which  I  pronounced  "  Sardine,"  and  this 
seemed  to  afford  great  amusement  to  the  gaping  crowd 
which  had  assembled  to  see  me  off. 

The  drive  from  Beyrout  to  Damascus  was  charming, 
and  it  lasted  two  days. 


370       ube  TRomance  ot  Isabel  Xafcy  Burton 

First  we  drove  over  the  Plain  of  Beyrout,  behind  the 
town.  The  roadside  was  lined  with  cactus  hedges  and 
rude  cafes  ^  which  are  filled  on  Sundays  and  holidays  by 
all  classes.  They  go  to  smoke,  sip  coffee  and  raki,  and 
watch  the  passers-by.  Immediately  on  arriving  at  the 
foot  of  the  Lebanon,  we  commenced  a  winding,  steep 
ascent,  every  turn  of  which  gave  charming  views  of  the 
sea  and  of  Beyrout,  which  we  did  not  lose  sight  of  for 
several  hours.  We  wound  round  and  round  the  ascent 
until  Beyrout  and  the  sea  became  invisible.  The  cold 
made  me  hungry,  and  I  refreshed  myself  with  some 
bread,  hard-boiled  eggs,  and  a  cigarette.  "  Sardine  " 
was  keeping  Ramadan,  but  the  sight  of  these  luxuries 
tempted  him,  and  he  broke  his  fast.  I  couldn't  help 
offering  him  something,  he  looked  so  wistful  !  At 
last  we  reached  the  top,  and  a  glorious  wintry  sunset 
gave  us  a  splendid  view.  It  was  of  course  midwinter, 
and  one  saw  little  of  the  boasted  fertility  of  the  Lebanon. 
After  the  beauties  of  Brazil  the  scenery  looked  to  me 
like  a  wilderness  of  rock  and  sand,  treeless  and  barren  ; 
the  very  mountains  were  only  hills.  I  could  not  help 
contrasting  the  new  world  and  the  old.  In  Brazil, 
though  rich  in  luxuriant  vegetable  and  animal  life, 
there  is  no  history — all  is  new  and  progressive,  but 
vulgar  and  parvenu  ;  whereas  Syria,  in  her  abomination 
of  desolation,  is  the  old  land,  and  she  teems  with  relics 
of  departed  glory.  I  felt  that  I  would  rather  abide 
with  her,  and  mourn  the  past  amid  her  barren  rocks 
and  sandy  desert,  than  rush  into  the  progress  and  the 
hurry  of  the  new  world. 

We  descended  the  Lebanon  at  a  full  canter  into  the 


Sournes  to  Damascus  371 

Buka'a  Plain.  On  the  road  I  met  three  strangers,  who 
offered  me  a  little  civility  when  I  was  searching  for  a 
glass  of  water  at  a  khan,  or  inn.  As  I  was  better 
mounted  than  they,  I  said  that  in  the  event  of  my 
reaching  our  night-halt  first  I  would  order  supper  and 
beds  for  them,  and  they  informed  me  that  every  house 
on  the  road  had  been  retenue  for  me,  so  that  I  was 
really  making  quite  a  royal  progress.  I  was  able  to 
keep  my  promise  to  them.  The  halt  was  at  Shtora, 
a  little  half-way  inn  kept  by  a  Greek.  The  three 
travellers  soon  came  up.  We  supped  together  and 
spent  a  pleasant  evening.  They  turned  out  to  be 
a  French  employe  at  the  Foreign  Office,  a  Bavarian 
minister  on  his  travels,  and  a  Swedish  officer  on  leave. 

The  next  morning  we  parted.  My  new  acquaintances 
set  out  in  an  opposite  direction,  and  I  went  on  to 
Damascus.  We  trotted  cheerfully  across  the  rest  of 
the  Buka'a  Plain,  and  then  commenced  the  ascent  of  the 
Anti-Lebanon.  To  my  mind  the  Anti-Lebanon,  off 
the  beaten  track,  is  wilder  and  more  picturesque  than 
the  other  range.  The  descent  of  the  Anti-Lebanon  we 
did  at  a  good  pace,  but  it  seemed  a  long  time  until  we 
landed  on  the  plain  Es  Sahara.  That  reached,  com- 
pensation for  the  ugly  scenery  we  had  to  pass  through 
began  when  we  entered  a  beautiful  mountain  defile, 
about  two  hours  from  Damascus.  Here,  between 
mountains,  runs  the  road  ;  and  the  Barada — the  ancient 
Abana,  they  say — rushes  through  the  mountains  and  by 
the  roadside  to  water  the  gardens  of  Damascus. 

Between  Salahiyyeh  and  Damascus  is  a  quarter  of 
an  hour's  ride  through  gardens  and  orchards.  I  had 


heard  of  them  often,  and  of  the  beautiful  white  city, 
with  her  swelling  domes,  tapering  minarets,  and  glitter- 
ing golden  crescents  looming  against  the  far  horizon 
of  the  distant  hills.  So  I  had  heard  of  Damascus,  so  I 
had  pictured  it,  and  so  I  often  saw  it  later  ;  but  I  did 
not  see  it  thus  on  this  my  first  entrance  to  it,  for  it  was 
winter.  As  we  rumbled  along  the  carriage  road  I  asked 
ever  and  again,  "  Where  are  the  beautiful  gardens  of 
Damascus  ?  "  "  Here,"  said  the  kawwass,  pointing  to 
what  in  winter-time  and  to  English  eyes  appeared 
only  ugly  shrubberies,  wood  clumps,  and  orchards.  I 
saw  merely  scrubby  woods  bordered  by  green,  which 
made  a  contrast  to  the  utter  sterility  of  Es  Sahara. 
We  passed  Dummar,  a  village  which  contains  several 
summer  villas  belonging  to  the  Wali  (the  Governor- 
General  of  Syria)  and  other  personages.  The  Barada 
ran  along  the  right  of  the  road,  and  gradually  broadened 
into  the  green  Merj,  which  looked  then  like  a  village 
common.  And  thus  I  entered  Damascus. 

We  passed  a  beautiful  mosque,  with  the  dome 
flanked  by  two  slender  minarets.  I  scarcely  noticed 
it  at  the  time,  for  I  drove  with  all  haste  to  the  only 
hotel  in  Damascus — "  Demetri's."  It  is  a  good  house 
with  a  fine  courtyard,  which  has  orange  and  lemon  trees, 
a  fountain  full  of  goldfish  in  it,  and  a  covered  gallery 
running  round  it.  All  this  would  have  been  cool  and 
pleasant  in  the  summer,  but  it  was  dark,  damp,  and 
dreary  that  winter  evening.  I  must  own  frankly  that 
my  first  impression  of  Damascus  was  not  favourable, 
and  a  feeling  of  disappointment  stole  over  me.  It  was 
very  cold  ;  and  driving  into  the  city  as  I  did  tired  out, 


Sournes  to  Damascus  373 

the  shaky  trap  heaving  and  pitching  heavily  through 
the  thick  mire  and  slushy,  narrow  streets,  filled  with 
refuse  and  wild  dogs,  is,  to  speak  mildly,  not  liable 
to  give  one  a  pleasant  impression. 

However,  all  my  discomfort,  depression,  and  disap- 
pointment were  soon  swallowed  up  in  the  joy  of 
meeting  Richard,  who  had  also  put  up,  pending  my 
appearance,  at  this  hotel.  He  came  in  about  an  hour 
after  my  arrival,  and  I  found  him  looking  ill  and  worn. 
After  our  first  greetings  were  over  he  told  me  his 
reception  at  Damascus  had  been  most  cordial,  but  he 
had  been  dispirited  by  not  getting  any  letters  from 
me  or  telegrams.  They  all  arrived  in  a  heap  some 
days  after  I  came.  And  this  explained  how  it  was 
that  he  had  not  come  to  meet  me  at  Beyrout,  as  I  had 
expected  him  to  do.  In  fact,  I  had  felt  sorely  hurt 
that  he  had  not  come.  But  he  told  me  he  had  gone 
to  Beyrout  over  and  over  again  to  meet  me,  and  I 
had  not  turned  up,  and  now  the  steamer  by  which  I 
had  arrived  was  the  only  one  which  he  had  not  gone 
to  meet.  He  was  feeling  very  low  and  sad  about  my 
non-appearance.  It  was  therefore  a  joyful  surprise 
for  him  when  he  came  in  from  his  lonely  walk  to  find 
me  settled  down  comfortably  in  his  room.  Though  he 
greeted  me  in  that  matter-of-fact  way  with  which  he 
was  wont  to  repress  his  emotions,  I  could  feel  that 
he  was  both  surprised  and  overjoyed.  He  had  already 
been  three  months  at  Damascus,  and  the  climate  and 
loneliness  had  had  a  bad  effect  upon  him,  both  mentally 
and  physically.  However,  we  had  a  comfortable  little 
dinner,  the  best  that  "  Demetri's "  could  give  us, 


374      TCbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

which  was  nothing  special,  and  after  dinner  was  over 
we  warmed  ourselves  over  a  mangal,  a  large  brass  dish 
on  a  stand,  full  of  live  charcoal  embers.  Then  we  had 
a  smoke,  and  began  to  discuss  our  plans  for  our  new 
home. 

It  had  taken  me  fifteen   days  and   nights  without 
stopping  to  come  from  London  to  Damascus. 


CHAPTER  XI 

IN  AND  ABOUT  DAMASCUS 
(1870) 

Though  old  as  history  itself,  thou  art  fresh  as  breath  of  spring,  blooming 
as  thine  own  rosebud,  as  fragrant  as  thine  own  orange  flower,  O  Damascus, 
Pearl  of  the  East ! 

DURING  the  first  weeks  at  Damascus  my  only 
work  was  to  find  a  suitable  house  and  to  settle 
down  in  it.  Our  predecessor  in  the  Consulate  had  lived 
in  a  large  house  in  the  city  itself,  and  as  soon  as  he 
retired  he  let  it  to  a  wealthy  Jew.  In  any  case  it  would 
not  have  suited  us,  nor  would  any  house  within  the 
city  walls  ;  for  though  some  of  them  were  quite  beautiful 
—  indeed,  marble  palaces  gorgeously  decorated  and 
furnished  after  the  manner  of  oriental  houses  —  yet 
there  is  always  a  certain  sense  of  imprisonment  about 
Damascus,  as  the  windows  of  the  houses  are  all  barred 
and  latticed,  and  the  gates  of  the  city  are  shut  at  sunset. 
This  would  not  have  suited  our  wild-cat  proclivities  ; 
we  should  have  felt  as  though  we  were  confined  in 
a  cage.  So  after  a  search  of  many  days  we  took 
a  house  in  the  environs,  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
from  Damascus,  high  up  the  hill.  Just  beyond  it  was 
the  desert  sand,  and  in  the  background  a  saffron-hued 

375 


376     ube  iRomance  of  Isabel  %ao$  JSurton 

mountain  known  as  the  Camomile  Mountain ;  and 
camomile  was  the  scent  which  pervaded  our  village  and  all 
Damascus.  Our  house  was  in  the  suburb  of  Salahiyyeh, 
and  we  had  good  air  and  light,  beautiful  views,  fresh 
water,  quiet,  and  above  all  liberty.  In  five  minutes  we 
could  gallop  out  over  the  mountains,  and  there  was  no 
locking  us  up  at  sunset.  Here  then  we  pitched  our  tent. 
I  should  like  to  describe  our  house  at  Salahiyyeh 
once  more,  though  I  have  described  it  before,  and 
Frederick  Leighton  once  drew  a  sketch  of  it,  so  that  it 
is  pretty  well  known.  Our  house  faced  the  road  and 
the  opposite  gardens,  and  it  was  flanked  on  one  side 
by  the  Mosque  and  on  the  other  by  the  Hammam 
(Turkish  Bath),  and  there  were  gardens  at  the  back. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  road  were  apricot  trees,  whose 
varying  beauty  of  bud  and  leaf  and  flower  and  fruit 
can  be  better  imagined  than  described.  Among  these 
apricot  orchards  I  had  a  capital  stable  for  twelve  horses, 
and  a  good  room  attached  to  it  for  any  number  of 
saises,  or  grooms,  and  beyond  that  again  was  a  little 
garden,  through  which  the  river  wended  its  way.  So 
much  for  the  exterior.  Now  to  come  indoors.  As  one 
entered,  first  of  all  came  the  courtyard,  boldly  painted 
in  broad  stripes  of  red  and  white  and  blue,  after  the 
manner  of  all  the  courtyards  in  Damascus.  Here  too 
splashed  the  fountain,  and  all  around  were  orange,  lemon, 
and  jessamine  trees.  Two  steps  took  one  to  the  liwan, 
a  raised  room  open  one  side  to  the  court,  and  spread 
with  carpets,  divans,  and  Eastern  stuffs.  It  was  here, 
in  the  summer,  I  was  wont  to  receive.  On  the  right 
side  of  the  court  was  a  dining-room,  and  on  the  left  a 


3n  anfc  Hbout  Damascus  377 

cool  sitting-room,  when  it  was  too  hot  to  live  upstairs. 
All  the  rest  of  the  space  below  was  left  to  the  servants 
and  offices.  Upstairs  the  rooms  ran  around  two  sides  of 
the  courtyard.  A  long  terrace  occupied  the  other  two 
sides,  joining  the  rooms  at  either  end.  This  terrace 
formed  a  pleasant  housetop  in  the  cool  evenings.  We 
spread  it  with  mats  and  divans,  and  used  to  sit  among 
the  flowers  and  shrubs,  and  look  over  Damascus  and 
sniff  the  desert  air  beyond. 

Of  course  this  house  was  not  the  Consulate,  which 
was  in  the  city,  close  to  the  Serai,  or  Government  House. 

I  think  the  charm  of  our  house  lay  chiefly  in  the 
gardens  around  it.  We  made  a  beautiful  arbour  in 
the  garden  opposite  —  a  garden  of  roses  andjessamine  ; 
and  we  made  it  by  lifting  up  overladen  vines  and 
citrons,  and  the  branches  of  lemon  and  orange  trees, 
and  supporting  them  on  a  framework,  so  that  no  sun 
could  penetrate  their  luxuriant  leafage.  We  put  a 
divan  in  this  arbour,  which  overlooked  the  rushing  river; 
and  that  and  the  housetop  were  our  favourite  places  to 
smoke  on  cool  summer  evenings. 

By  this  time  you  will  probably  have  discovered  my 
love  for  animals,  and  as  soon  as  I  had  arranged  our 
house  at  Damascus  the  first  thing  I  did  was  to  indulge 
in  my  hobby  of  collecting  a  menagerie.  First  of  all 
we  bought  some  horses,  three-quarter-breds  and  half- 
breds.  Thorough-bred  Arabs,  especially  mares,  were 
too  dear  for  our  stable,  and  would  have  made  us  an 
object  of  suspicion.  In  the  East,  where  there  are 
official  hands  not  clear  of  bribes,  an  Arab  mare  is  a 
favourite  bribe,  and  I  had  many  such  offers  before  I 


$?8     Tlbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  IBurton 

had  been  at  Damascus  long ;  but  I  refused  them  all. 
Richard  always  gave  me  entire  command  of  the  stable, 
and  so  it  was  my  domain.  Living  in  solitude  as  I 
did  very  much,  I  discovered  how  companionable  horses 
could  be.  There  was  no  speech  between  us,  but  I 
knew  everything  they  said  and  thought  and  felt,  and 
they  knew  everything  I  said  to  them.  I  did  not 
confine  my  purchases  entirely  to  horses.  I  bought  a 
camel  and  a  snow-white  donkey,  which  latter  is  the 
most  honourable  mount  for  grand  visiting.  I  also 
picked  up  a  splendid  Persian  cat  in  the  bazaars,  and  I 
had  brought  over  with  me  a  young  pet  St.  Bernard 
dog,  two  brindle  bull-terriers  and  two  of  the  Yar- 

D7 

borough  breed,  and  I  added  later  a  Kurdish  pup.  I 
bought  three  milk  goats  for  the  house,  and  I  had 
presents  of  a  pet  lamb  and  a  nimr  (leopard),  which 
became  the  idol  of  the  house.  The  domestic  hen-yard 
was  duly  stocked  with  all  kinds  of  fowls,  turkeys, 
geese,  ducks,  and  guinea-fowls,  and  in  the  garden  and 
on  the  terrace  and  the  housetop  I  kept  my  pigeons. 
This  collection  was  my  delight.  I  cannot  say  that  they 
were  a  happy  family.  After  a  time  I  trained  them 
into  living  together  in  something  like  harmony,  but  it 
took  a  very  long  time.  I  added  to  my  family  also 
from  time  to  time  half-famished  dogs  which  I  had 
rescued  from  the  streets,  or  ill-treated  and  broken-down 
donkeys,  which  I  purchased  from  some  cruel  master. 
In  the  course  of  time  it  became  a  truly  wonderful 
gathering. 

The  animals  in  the  East  seem  to  me  to  be  almost 
more  intelligent  than  those  at  home.     They  certainly 


3n  ano  about  Damascus  379 

have  a  way  of  showing  their  likes  and  dislikes  very 
strongly.  When  I  first  came  to  Damascus,  fond  though 
I  was  of  animals,  I  found  that  most  of  them  shied  at 
me.  I  do  not  think  that  they  had  been  accustomed  to 
an  Englishwoman  at  close  quarters.  For  instance,  I 
went  for  a  walk  one  day,  and  met  a  small  boy  leading 
a  donkey  laden  with  radishes,  as  high  as  a  small  tree. 
I  suppose  that  I  was  strange-looking,  for  at  the  sight 
of  me  the  donkey  kicked  up  his  heels  and  threw  all 
the  radishes  about  for  a  hundred  yards  around.  The 
poor  little  boy  set  up  a  howl.  I  ran  to  help  him,  but 
the  more  I  tried  the  more  the  donkey  ran  away,  and 
at  last  I  understood  by  signs  that  the  donkey  was 
shying  at  me,  so  I  threw  the  boy  a  coin  and  retreated, 
and  sent  another  boy  to  help  him.  We  called  to  an 
old  man  riding  a  shabby-looking  horse,  but  the  moment 
the  horse  saw  me  it  did  exactly  the  same  thing,  and 
nearly  flung  the  old  man  off.  My  sides  ached  with 
laughing.  Fancy  being  so  queer  that  the  animals  take 
fright  at  one ! 

I  think  before  I  go  further  I  ought  to  give  some 
general  idea  of  the  city  of  Damascus  as  it  appeared  to 
me.  I  have  already  said  that  my  first  sight  of  the  city 
was  one  of  disappointment ;  but  when  I  got  to  know  it 
better  its  charm  grew  upon  me,  and  I  shall  never  till 
I  die  like  any  place  so  well.  Damascus,  as  I  suppose 
every  one  knows,  is  the  largest  town  in  Syria.  In 
shape  it  is  rather  like  a  boy's  kite,  with  a  very  long 
tail.  The  tail  of  the  kite  is  the  Maydan,  the  poorest 
part  of  Damascus,  but  rich  in  ruined  mosques  and 
hammams,  and  houses  which  at  first  sight  look  as 


380     Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  3Burton 

though  they  were  in  decay.  But  when  we  got  to  know 
these  houses  better,  we  found  that  marble  courts,  inlaid 
chambers,  arabesque  ceilings,  often  lay  behind  the 
muddy  exteriors.  The  city  itself  is  divided  into  three 
quarters  :  the  Jewish  in  the  southern  part,  the  Moslem 
in  the  northern  and  western,  and  the  Christians  in  the 
eastern.  The  Moslem  quarter  is  clean,  the  Christian 
quarter  dirty,  and  the  Jewish  simply  filthy.  I  often 
had  to  gallop  through  it  holding  my  handkerchief  to 
my  mouth,  and  the  kawwasses  running  as  though  they 
had  been  pursued  by  devils.  Everywhere  in  Damascus, 
but  especially  in  this  quarter,  the  labyrinthine  streets 
are  piled  with  heaps  of  offal,  wild  dogs  are  gorged  with 
carrion,  and  dead  dogs  are  lying  about.  One  must  never 
judge  Damascus,  however,  by  externals :  every  house 
has  a  mean  aspect  in  the  way  of  entrance  and  approach. 
This  is  done  purposely  to  deceive  the  Government,  and 
not  to  betray  what  may  be  within  in  times  of  looting. 
You  often  approach  through  a  mean  doorway  into  a 
dirty  passage ;  you  then  enter  a  second  court,  and  you 
behold  a  marvellous  transformation.  You  find  the 
house  thoroughly  cleaned  and  perfumed,  paved  courts 
with  marble  fountains  and  goldfish,  orange  and  jessa- 
mine trees,  furniture  inlaid  with  gold  and  ebony  and 
mother-o'-pearl,  and  stained-glass  windows.  In  the 
interior  of  one  of  the  most  beautiful  houses  I  saw  in 
Damascus  the  show-room  was  very  magnificent,  up- 
holstered in  velvet  and  gold,  and  with  divans  inlaid 
with  marble,  mother-o'-pearl,  ebony,  and  walnut,  and 
there  were  tesselated  marble  floors  and  pavements  and 
fountains  ;  but,  en  revanche,  God  knows  where  they 


3n  ant)  Hbout  Damascus  381 

sleep  at  all.  One  of  the  ladies  I  went  to  call  on  first 
in  her  house  was  a  very  young  and  pretty  bride,  only 
a  fortnight  married.  She  was  gaudily  dressed  with 
about  ^2,000  worth  of  diamonds  on  her  head  and 
neck,  but  the  stones  were  so  badly  set  they  looked 
like  rubbish.  She  rolled  from  side  to  side  in  her  walk, 
which  is  a  habit  very  chic. 

Notwithstanding  her  internal  grandeur,  Damascus  is 
but  a  wreck  of  her  former  splendour,  albeit  a  beautiful 
wreck.  Ichabod  !  her  glory  has  departed  ;  not  even  the 
innumerable  domes  and  minarets  of  her  multitudinous 
mosques  can  reinstate  her. 

I  think  I  ought  to  touch  on  the  bazaars,  as  they  form 
such  an  integral  part  of  the  life  of  Damascus.  Many 
of  them  were  very  beautiful,  all  huddled  together  in  a 
labyrinth  of  streets,  and  containing  almost  everything 
which  one  could  want.  I  used  to  love  to  go  with  my 
Arab  maid  and  wander  through  them.  There  was  the 
saddlery  bazaar,  where  one  could  buy  magnificent  trap- 
pings for  one's  Arab  steeds,  saddle-cloths  embossed  with 
gold,  bridles  of  scarlet  silk,  a  single  rein  which  makes 
you  look  as  if  you  were  managing  a  horse  by  a  single 
thread,  and  bridles  of  silver  and  ivory.  There  was  a 
shoemakers'  bazaar.  How  different  from  a  shoeshop 
in  England !  The  stalls  were  gorgeous  with  lemon- 
coloured  slippers,  stiff  red  shoes,  scarlet  boots  with  tops 
and  tassels  and  hangings,  which  form  part  of  the  Bedawi 
dress.  There  was  a  marqueterie  bazaar,  where  one  found 
many  lovely  things  inlaid  with  choice  woods,  mother- 
o'-pearl,  and  steel.  And  there  was  the  gold  and  silver 
bazaar,  where  the  smiths  sat  round  in  little  pens, 


382     ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xafc$  JSurton 


hammering  at  their  anvils.  Here  one  could  pick  up 
some  most  beautiful  barbarous  and  antique  ornaments, 
filigree  coffee-cup  holders,  raki  cups  of  silver  inlaid 
with  gold,  and  many  other  beautiful  things  too  numerous 
to  mention.  There  was  another  bazaar  where  they  sold 
attar  and  sandal-wood  oil  ;  and  yet  another  where  one 
could  buy  rich  Eastern  stuffs  and  silks,  the  most 
beautiful  things,  which  would  make  a  fine  smoking  suit 
for  one's  husband,  or  a  sortie  de  bal  for  oneself.  Here 
also  you  can  buy  izars  to  walk  about  the  bazaars 
incognita.  They  are  mostly  brilliantly  hued  and  beau- 
tifully worked  in  gold.  There  was  also  the  divan, 
where  one  bought  beautiful  stuffs,  gaudy  Persian  rugs, 
and  prayer-carpets  for  furnishing  the  house.  There 
was  the  bazaar  where  one  bought  henna,  wherewith  to 
stain  the  hands,  the  feet,  and  the  finger-nails.  And  last, 
but  by  no  means  least,  there  was  the  pipe  or  narghileh 
bazaar,  which  contained  the  most  beautiful  pipe-sticks  I 
ever  saw,  and  the  most  lovely  narghilehs,  which  were 
made  in  exquisite  shapes  and  of  great  length  in  the 
tube.  The  longer  the  narbish,  or  tube,  the  higher 
your  rank,  and  the  greater  compliment  you  pay  to  your 
guest.  I  used  to  order  mine  to  be  all  dark  chocolate 
and  gold,  and  to  measure  from  four  to  six  yards  in 
length,  and  I  never  had  less  than  twelve  narghilehs  in 
the  house  at  once,  one  of  which  I  kept  for  my  own 
particular  smoking,  and  a  silver  mouthpiece  which  I 
kept  in  my  pocket  for  use  when  visiting.  I  cannot 
hope  in  a  short  space  to  exhaust  the  treasures  of  these 
gorgeous  bazaars.  I  can  only  say  in  conclusion  that 
there  were  also  the  bazaars  for  sweetmeats,  most 


3n  ant)  Hbout  Damascus  383 

delectable ;  for  coffee,  of  which   one  never  tastes  the 
like  out  of  Damascus  ;  and  every  kind  of  bric-a-brac. 

No  account  of  Damascus,  not  even  a  bird's-eye  view, 
would  be  complete  without  some  mention  of  the  great 
Mosque,  whither  I  was  wont  now  and  again  to  repair. 
When  I  went,  I  of  course  took  off  my  boots  at  the 
entrance,  and  put  on  my  lemon-coloured  slippers,  and  I 
was  always  careful  to  be  as  respectful  and  as  reverent  as 
if  I  were  in  my  own  church,  and  to  never  forget  to 
leave  a  trifle  for  the  poor,  and  to  give  a  substantial 
tip  when  I  went  out.  The  Mosque  was  a  magnificent 
building,  with  a  ceiling  of  beautiful  arabesques ;  the 
floor  of  limestone  like  marble,  covered  with  mats  and 
prayer-carpets.  One  of  the  most  beautiful  domes  had 
windows  of  delicately  carved  wood,  whose  interstices 
were  filled  with  crystal.  There  was  a  large  paved 
court  with  a  marble  dome  and  fountain  ;  and  there  were 
three  minarets,  which  it  was  possible  to  ascend  and  from 
them  to  look  down  upon  Damascus.  It  was  up  one  of 
these  minarets  that  the  Duchesse  de  Persigny  ascended, 
and  when  prayer  was  called  she  refused  to  come  down. 
The  Shaykh  sent  all  kinds  of  emissaries  and  entreaties, 
to  whom  she  replied  :  "  Dites  au  Shaykh  que  je  suis  la 
Duchesse  de  Persigny,  queje  me  trouve  fort  bien  ici, 
et  que  je  ne  descendrai  que  quand  cela  me  plaira." 
She  did  not  please  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour.  She 
also  visited  cafes  which  Moslem  women  do  not  visit, 
and  shocked  the  kawwasses  so  much  that  they  begged 
the  French  Consul  not  to  send  them  to  guard  her, 
as  they  were  losing  their  reputation  !  But  to  return 
to  our  muttons.  This  superb  Mosque  has  alternately 


384     Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JSurton 

served  as  a  place  of  worship  for  many  creeds:  for  the 
Pagans  as  a  temple,  for  the  Christians  as  a  cathedral, 
and  for  the  Moslems  as  a  mosque.  Like  Damascus,  it 
has  had  its  vicissitudes,  and  it  has  been  taken  captive  by 
Babylonians,  Greeks,  Persians,  Assyrians,  and  Turks. 
The  Hammam,  or  Turkish  Bath,  is  another  feature 
of  Damascus,  and  was  one  of  my  favourite  haunts.  I 
first  went  to  the  Hammam  out  of  curiosity,  and  was 
warmly  welcomed  by  the  native  women  ;  but  I  was 
rather  shocked.  They  squat  naked  on  the  floor,  and, 
despoiled  of  their  dress  and  hair  and  make-up,  are, 
most  of  them,  truly  hideous.  Their  skins  are  like 
parchment,  and  baggy ;  their  heads  as  bald  as  billiard- 
balls.  What  little  hair  they  have  is  dyed  an  orange  red 
with  henna.  They  look  like  the  witches  in  Macbeth, 
or  at  least  as  if  they  had  been  called  up  from  out  of  the 
lower  regions.  They  sit  chatting  with  little  bundles 
of  sweets  and  narghilehs  before  them.  An  average 
Englishwoman  would  look  like  an  houri  amongst  them  ; 
and  their  customs  were  beastly,  to  use  the  mildest  term. 
The  Hammam  was  entered  by  a  large  hall,  lit  by  a 
skylight,  with  a  huge  marble  tank  in  the  centre  and 
four  little  fountains,  and  all  around  raised  divans 
covered  with  cushions.  Here  one  wraps  oneself  in  silk 
and  woollen  sheets,  and  after  that  proceeds  to  pass 
through  the  six  marble  rooms.  The  first  is  the  cold 
room,  the  next  warmer,  the  third  warmer  still,  until 
you  come  to  the  sudariumt  the  hottest  room  of  all. 
First  they  lather  you,  then  they  wash  you  with  a  lif 
and  soap,  then  they  douche  you  with  tubs  of  hot  water, 
then  they  shampoo  you  with  fresh  layers  of  soap,  and 


5n  ant)  about  Damascus  385 

then  douche  again.  They  give  you  iced  sherbet,  and 
tie  towels  dipped  in  cold  water  round  your  head,  which 
prevent  you  fainting  and  make  you  perspire.  They 
scrub  your  feet  with  pumice-stone,  and  move  you  back 
through  all  the  rooms  gradually,  douche  you  with  water, 
and  shampoo  you  with  towels.  You  now  return  to  the 
large  hall  where  you  first  undressed,  wrap  in  woollen 
shawls,  and  recline  on  a  divan.  The  place  is  all  strewn 
with  flowers,  incense  is  burned  around,  and  a  cup  of 
hot  coffee  is  handed  and  a  narghileh  placed  in  your 
mouth.  A  woman  advances  and  kneads  you  as  though 
you  were  bread,  until  you  fall  asleep  under  the  process, 
as  though  mesmerized.  When  you  wake  up,  you  find 
music  and  dancing,  the  girls  chasing  one  another,  eating 
sweetmeats,  and  enjoying  all  sorts  of  fun.  Moslem 
women  go  through  a  good  deal  more  of  the  performance 
than  I  have  described.  For  instance,  they  have  their 
hair  hennaed  and  their  eyebrows  plucked.  You  can 
also  have  your  hands  and  feet  hennaed,  and,  if  you  like 
it,  be  tattooed.  The  whole  operation  takes  about  four 
hours.  It  is  often  said  by  the  ignorant  that  people  can 
get  as  good  a  hammam  in  London  or  Paris  as  in  the 
East.  I  have  tried  all,  and  they  bear  about  as  much 
relation  to  one  another  as  a  puddle  of  dirty  water  does 
to  a  pellucid  lake.  And  the  pellucid  lake  is  in  the  East. 
Then  the  harems.  I  often  spent  an  evening  in 
them,  and  I  found  them  very  pleasant ;  only  at  first 
the  women  used  to  ask  me  such  a  lot  of  inconvenient 
questions  that  I  became  quite  confused.  They  were 
always  puzzled  because  I  had  no  children.  One  cannot 
generalize  on  the  subject  of  harems ;  they  differ  in 


386     Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  %aos  3Burton 

degree  just  as  much  as  families  in  London.  A  first- 
class  harem  at  Constantinople  is  one  thing,  at  Damascus 
one  of  the  same  rank  is  another,  while  those  of  the 
middle  and  lower  classes  are  different  still.  As  a  rule 
I  met  with  nothing  but  courtesy  in  the  harems,  and 
much  hospitality,  cordiality,  and  refinement.  I  only 
twice  met  with  bad  manners,  and  that  was  in  a  middle- 
class  harem.  Twice  only  the  conversation  displeased 
me,  and  that  was  amongst  the  lower  class.  One  of 
the  first  harems  I  visited  in  Damascus  was  that  of  the 
famous  Abd  el  Kadir  (of  whom  more  anon),  which  of 
course  was  one  of  the  best  class.  He  had  five  wives : 
one  of  them  was  very  pretty.  I  asked  them  how  they 
could  bear  to  live  together  and  pet  each  other's  children. 
I  told  them  that  in  England,  if  a  woman  thought  her 
husband  had  another  wife  or  mistress,  she  would  be 
ready  to  kill  her  and  strangle  the  children  if  they  were 
not  her  own.  They  all  laughed  heartily  at  me,  and 
seemed  to  think  it  a  great  joke.  I  am  afraid  that  Abd 
el  Kadir  was  a  bit  of  a  Tartar  in  his  harem,  for  they 
were  very  prim  and  pious. 

So  much  for  the  city  of  Damascus. 

In  the  environs  there  were  many  beautiful  little  roads, 
leading  through  gardens  and  orchards,  with  bubbling 
water,  and  under  the  shady  fig  and  vine,  pomegranate 
and  walnut.  You  emerged  from  these  shady  avenues 
on  to  the  soft  yellow  sand  of  the  desert,  where  you 
could  gallop  as  hard  as  you  pleased.  There  were  no 
boundary-lines,  no  sign-posts,  nothing  to  check  one's 
spirits  or  one's  energy.  The  breath  of  the  desert  is 
liberty. 


CHAPTER   XII 

EARLY  DAYS  AT  DAMASCUS 
(1870) 

Though  old  as  history  itself,  thou  art  fresh  as  breath  01  spring,  blooming 
as  thine  own  rosebud,  as  fragrant  as  thine  own  orange  flower,  O  Damascus, 
Pearl  of  the  East  1 

AS  soon  as  we  had  settled  in  our  house  I  had  to 
accustom  myself  to  the  honours  of  my  position, 
which  at  first  were  rather  irksome  to  me  ;  but  as  they 
were  part  of  the  business  I  had  to  put  up  with  them. 
I  found  my  position  as  the  wife  of  the  British  Consul 
in  Damascus  very  different  from  what  it  had  been  in 
Brazil.  A  consul  in  the  East  as  envoye  of  a  Great 
Power  is  a  big  man,  and  he  ranks  almost  as  high  as 
a  Minister  would  in  Europe.  Nearer  home  a  consul 
is  often  hardly  considered  to  be  a  gentleman,  while  in 
many  countries  he  is  not  allowed  to  go  to  Court.  In 
the  East,  however,  the  Consular  service  was,  at  the 
time  I  write,  an  honoured  profession,  and  the  envoyes  of 
the  Great  Powers  were  expected  to  keep  up  a  little 
state,  especially  the  English  and  the  French.  They 
had  a  certain  number  of  Consular  dragomans,  or 
gentleman  secretaries,  in  distinction  to  the  travelling 
dragoman,  who  bears  the  same  relation  as  a  courier 

387 


388      ube  "Romance  of  Ssabel  Xaog  JSurton 

in  Europe.  They  also  had  a  certain  number  of 
kawwasses,  who  look  like  cavalry  soldiers.  The 
Consulate  at  Damascus  was  then  quite  like  a  diplomatic 
post,  and  I  felt  like  a  Minister's  wife,  and  was  treated 
accordingly.  For  instance,  every  time  I  went  outside 
my  door  I  was  attended  by  four  kawwasses,  with 
swords  and  uniforms  much  ornamented,  also  a  drago- 
man interpreter.  The  duty  of  these  four  attendants 
was  to  clear  the  way  before  and  behind  me,  and  I 
assure  you  it  was  far  more  pain  than  pleasure  to  me  to 
see  mules,  horses,  donkeys,  camels,  little  children,  and 
poor  old  men  thrust  out  of  the  way,  as  if  I  were  sacred 
and  they  were  all  dirt.  How  they  must  have  cursed 
me  !  I  told  my  kawwasses  that  I  did  not  wish  them 
to  show  themselves  officious  by  doing  more  than  was 
absolutely  necessary  for  the  dignity  of  the  British 
Consulate  and  the  custom  of  the  country.  But  their 
escort  certainly  was  necessary  to  a  great  extent.  When 
the  common  people  saw  a  kawwass,  they  knew  one  was  of 
importance,  and  made  way  for  one  ;  otherwise  a  woman 
could  not  walk  the  streets  of  Damascus  without  being 
molested  :  even  the  famished  herds  of  dogs  seemed 
to  know  the  difference  between  kawwass  and  no 
kawwass.  The  danger  from  dogs  was  that  they  col- 
lected and  ran  in  packs,  and  you  were  almost  caught 
in  the  eddy  of  wild  and  half-starved  dogs  if  you  were 
not  guarded. 

I  hate  pomp  and  ceremony  of  all  kinds,  except  where 
it  is  absolutely  necessary ;  but  in  this  case  I  could  not 
dispense  with  it.  The  French  Minister's  wife  was 
hissed  in  the  streets  of  Constantinople  because  she 


Early  Baps  at  Damascus  389 

chose  to  dispense  with  her  escort.  A  Protestant 
clergyman's  wife  was  nearly  struck  by  a  Turkish  soldier 
for  brushing  against  him  with  her  petticoats,  thus 
rendering  him,  according  to  his  religion,  unclean. 
Besides,  women  in  the  East  want  a  guard.  A  mission- 
ary young  lady  who  came  up  in  the  coupe  of  the 
diligence  from  Beyrout  to  Damascus  had  an  unpleasant 
experience.  A  Persian,  who  called  himself  a  gentle- 
man, was  inside,  and  kissed  her  all  the  way  up.  She, 
poor  little  idiot !  saw  no  way  out  of  the  transaction,  but 
came  and  threw  herself  on  Richard's  protection  several 
days  after,  and  there  was  an  ugly  row.  She  had  the 
Persian  arrested,  and  tried  him.  If  anybody  had  tried 
that  sort  of  game  on  with  me,  I  should  have  made 
an  example  of  him  myself  and  taken  the  Jaw  in  my 
own  hands,  whoever  he  was.  An  escort  was  therefore 
necessary.  I  can  understand  how  some  consuls'  wives, 
sometimes  vulgar,  ill-conditioned  women,  might  get 
elated  at  this  newly  acquired  importance,  and  presume 
upon  it  until  they  became  unbearable.  I  found  the 
lack  of  privacy  very  trying  at  first,  but  I  was  anxious 
to  bear  it  because  I  saw  that  English  influence  at 
Damascus  required  lifting  a  great  many  pegs  higher 
than  our  predecessor  left  it.  The  only  member  of  our 
English  noblesse  the  people  had  hitherto  known  in 
Damascus  was  Lady  Ellenborough,  of  whom  more 
anon. 

As  soon  as  we  were  settled  down  I  had  to  begin  my 
receptions.  I  fixed  my  reception  day  on  Wednesday  ; 
and  it  was  no  trifle,  for  the  visitors  came  all  day 
long.  One  native  lady  told  me  indignantly  that  she 


39°      Ube  iRomance  of  Isabel  Xa&g  JSurton 

had  been  to  see  me  three  times  on  my  reception  day, 
and  had  been  refused.  I  said,  "  When  did  you  come  ? 
and  how  could  it  happen  that  I  had  never  heard  or 
it  ?  "  She  answered  almost  angrily,  ff  I  came  at  day- 
light, and  again  at  sunrise,  and  again  at  eight  o'clock." 
I  said  it  was  rather  early  ;  and  though  I  was  an  early 
riser,  it  was  just  possible  that  I  had  not  made  a  suit- 
able toilet  to  receive  her.  On  my  reception  day  the 
dragomans  interpreted  for  me.  The  kawwasses,  in 
full  dress  of  scarlet  and  gold,  kept  guard  by  turns, 
and  the  servants  were  engaged  incessantly  in  bringing 
up  relays  of  narghilehs,  chibouques,  cigarettes,  sweet- 
meats, sherbet,  Turkish  coffee  and  tea.  My  visitors 
sat  on  the  divans,  cross-legged  or  not,  according  to 
their  nation,  and  smoked  and  chatted.  If  there  were 
Moslem  women,  I  had  two  separate  reception-rooms, 
and  went  from  one  to  the  other,  as  the  women  will 
not  unveil  before  strange  men.  It  was  a  most  tiring 
day;  for  not  only  did  people  come  all  through  the  day, 
but  I  was  obliged  to  concentrate  all  my  thoughts  not 
to  make  a  mistake  in  etiquette.  There  were  many 
grades  and  ranks  to  be  considered,  and  the  etiquette' 
in  receiving  each  guest  was  different  according  to  the 
rank.  The  dragoman  in  attendance  upon  me  would 
whisper  until  I  knew  it,  "  One  step,"  or  "  Two  steps," 
or  "  Half  across  the  room,"  or  "  The  door."  I  thus 
knew  exactly  the  visitor's  rank,  and  by  what  term  to 
address  him,  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest.  Of 
course,  in  receiving  natives,  the  method  of  receiving 
men  and  women  was  different.  I  advanced  to  meet 
the  women ;  we  mutually  raised  our  finger-tips  to 


Early  2>ass  at  Damascus  39* 

our  hearts,  lips,  and  foreheads.  They  then  seized  my 
hand,  which  I  snatched  away  to  prevent  their  kissing 
it  (it  sounds  rude,  but  it  isn't ;  it  is  the  essence  of 
politeness),  and  I  kissed  them  on  both  cheeks.  I 
personally  removed  their  veils  and  their  izars.  When 
they  took  their  leave,  I  revelled  them,  and  accom- 
panied them  to  the  door.  With  the  men  I  did 
not  shake  hands  :  we  saluted  at  a  distance.  If  my 
visitor  was  a  well-bred  man,  he  would  not  expect  me 
to  rise,  but  would  come  and  kiss  my  hand,  and  had  to 
be  pressed  two  or  three  times  before  he  would  consent 
to  sit  down.  The  only  man  I  was  in  the  habit  of 
rising  for  was  the  Wali,  or  Governor-General  of  Syria, 
because  he  represented  the  Sultan,  and  he  in  his  turn 
paid  me  a  similar  respect.  When  he  left,  I  accompanied 
him  to  the  door  of  the  room,  but  never  to  the  street 
door.  Moreover,  it  was  de  rigueur  every  time  a 
visitor  came  that  coffee,  tea,  or  sherbet  should  be 
offered  him,  and  that  I  should  take  it  with  him  and 
drink  first.  It  was  a  custom  with  the  natives,  and  I 
could  not  omit  it ;  but  when  I  first  held  my  receptions 
I  found  it  a  great  tax  upon  me,  and  mixing  so  many 
drinks  gave  me  indigestion.  Afterwards  I  grew  more 
wary,  and  merely  moistened  my  lips.  Another  thing  I 
used  to  do  at  my  earlier  receptions  was  to  make  tea 
and  coffee  and  carry  them  round  myself,  while  the 
dragomans  would  lazily  sit  and  look  on.  I  didn't 
understand  this  at  all,  so  I  told  them  to  get  up  and 
help  me,  and  they  willingly  handed  tea  and  coffee  to 
any  European,  man  or  woman,  but  not  to  their  native 
ladies,  who  blushed,  begged  the  dragomans'  pardon, 


392      Ube  Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  JBurton 

and  stood  up,  looking  appealingly  at  me,  and  praying 
not  to  be  served.  So  I  found  it  the  easiest  thing  to 
wait  on  the  native  women  myself,  though  I  felt  very 
indignant  that  any  man  should  feel  himself  degraded 
by  having  to  wait  on  a  woman. 

I  must  now  mention  three  of  my  principal  visitors, 
each  of  whom  afterwards  played  a  large  part,  though  a 
very  different  part,  in  our  life  at  Damascus. 

First  of  all  was  the  Wall,  or  Governor-General  of 
Syria.  I  received  him  in  state  one  day.  He  came  in 
full  uniform  with  a  great  many  attendants.  I  seated 
him  in  proper  form  on  a  divan  with  pipes  and  coffee. 
He  was  very  amiable  and  polite.  He  reminded  me  of 
an  old  tom-cat :  he  was  dressed  in  furs ;  he  was  indolent 
and  fat,  and  walked  on  his  toes  and  purred.  At  first 
sight  I  thought  him  a  kind-hearted  old  creature,  not 
very  intelligent  and  easily  led.  The  last  quality  was 
true  enough  ;  for  what  disgusted  me  was  that  Syria  was 
really  governed  by  dragomans,  and  the  Wali  or  any 
other  great  man  was  a  puppet.  For  instance,  if  the 
Consul  wanted  to  see  the  Wali,  he  had  to  send  one 
of  his  dragomans  to  the  Wall's  dragomans,  and  they 
arranged  between  them  just  what  they  liked.  The  two 
chief  men  met  each  other,  attended  by  two  dragomans, 
who  reported  every  word  of  the  conversation  round 
Damascus.  These  men  easily  made  people  enemies ; 
and  the  lies,  mischief,  and  scandal  they  originated 
were  beyond  imagination.  I  have  said  that  my  first 
impression  of  the  Wali  was  as  of  a  well-fed  cat ;  but  I 
soon  discovered  that  the  cat  had  claws,  for  he  quickly 
became  jealous  of  Richard's  influence,  and  during  our 


Baps  at  Damascus  393 

two  years'  sojourn  at  Damascus  he  was  one  of  our 
worst  enemies. 

Another,  and  the  most  interesting  of  all  the  person- 
ages who  attended  my  receptions,  was  Lady  Ellen- 
.  borough,  known  at  Damascus  as  the  Honourable  Jane 
Digby  El  Mezrab.1  She  was  the  most  romantic  and 
picturesque  personality  :  one  might  say  she  was  Lady 
Hester  Stanhope's  successor.  She  was  of  the  family 
of  Lord  Digby,  and  had  married  Lord  Ellenborough, 
Governor-General  of  India,  a  man  much  older  than 
herself,  when  she  was  quite  a  girl.  The  marriage  was 
against  her  wish.  She  was  very  unhappy  with  him, 
and  she  ran  away  with  Prince  Schwartzenburg  when 
she  was  only  nineteen,  and  Lord  Ellenborough  divorced 
her.  She  lived  with  Prince  Schwartzenburg  for  some 
years,  and  had  two  or  three  children  by  him,  and  then 
he  basely  deserted  her.  I  am  afraid  after  that  she  led 
a  life  for  a  year  or  two  over  which  it  is  kinder  to  draw 
a  veil.  She  then  tired  of  Europe,  and  conceived  the 
idea  of  visiting  the  East,  and  of  imitating  Lady 
Hester  Stanhope  and  other  European  ladies,  who  be- 
came more  Eastern  than  the  Easterns.  She  arrived  at 
Beyrout,  and  went  to  Damascus,  where  she  arranged 
to  go  to  Baghdad,  across  the  desert.  For  this  journey 
a  Bedawin  escort  was  necessary  ;  and  as  the  Mezrab 
tribe  occupied  the  ground,  the  duty  of  commanding 

['  Miss  Stisted  speaks  of  her  as  "Jane  Digby,  who  capped 
her  wild  career  by  marrying  a  camel-driver,"  and  animadverts 
on  Lady  Burton  for  befriending  her.  The  Shaykh  was  never  a 
camel-driver  in  his  life,  and  few,  I  think,  will  blame  Lady  Burton 
for  her  kindness  to  this  poor  lady,  her  countrywoman,  in  a 
strange  land.] 


394      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  %a&s  JSurton 

the  escort  devolved  upon  Shaykh  Mijwal,  a  younger 
brother  of  the  chief  of  this  tribe.  On  the  journey  the 
young  Shaykh  fell  in  love  with  this  beautiful  woman, 
and  she  fell  in  love  with  him.  The  romantic  picture 
of  becoming  a  queen  of  the  desert  suited  her  wild  and 
roving  fancy.  She  married  him,  in  spite  of  all  oppo- 
sition, according  to  the  Mohammedan  law.  At  the 
time  I  came  to  Damascus  she  was  living  half  the  year 
in  a  house  just  within  the  city  gates ;  the  other  half  of 
the  year  she  passed  in  the  desert  in  the  tents  of  the 
Bedawin  tribe,  living  absolutely  as  a  Bedawin  woman. 
When  I  first  saw  her  she  was  a  most  beautiful  woman, 
though  sixty-one  years  of  age.  She  wore  one  blue 
garment,  and  her  beautiful  hair  was  in  two  long  plaits 
down  to  the  ground.  When  she  was  in  the  desert, 
she  used  to  milk  the  camels,  serve  her  husband,  prepare 
his  food,  wash  his  hands,  face,  and  feet,  and  stood  and 
waited  on  him  while  he  ate,  like  any  Arab  woman,  and 
gloried  in  so  doing.  But  at  Damascus  she  led  a  semi- 
European  life.  She  blackened  her  eyes  with  kohl,  and 
lived  in  a  curiously  untidy  manner.  But  otherwise  she 
was  not  in  the  least  extraordinary  at  Damascus.  But 
what  was  incomprehensible  to  me  was  how  she  could 
have  given  up  all  she  had  in  England  to  live  with 
that  dirty  little  black — or  nearly  so — husband.  I 
went  to  see  her  one  day,  and  when  he  opened  the  door 
to  me  I  thought  at  first  he  was  a  native  servant.  I 
could  understand  her  leaving  a  coarse,  cruel  husband, 
much  older  than  herself,  whom  she  never  loved  (every 
woman  has  not  the  strength  of  mind  and  the  pride  to 
stand  by  what  she  has  done)  ;  I  could  understand  her 


H)a£s  at  Damascus  395 

running  away  with  Schwartzenburg  ;  but  the  contact 
with  that  black  skin  I  could  not  understand.  Her 
Shaykh  was  very  dark — darker  than  a  Persian,  and 
much  darker  than  an  Arab  generally  is.  All  the  same, 
he  was  a  very  intelligent  and  charming  man  in  any 
light  but  as  a  husband.  That  made  me  shudder.  It 
was  curious  how  she  had  retained  the  charming  manner, 
the  soft  voice,  and  all  the  graces  of  her  youth.  You 
would  have  known  her  at  once  to  be  an  English  lady, 
well  born  and  bred,  and  she  was  delighted  to  greet  in 
me  one  of  her  own  order.  We  became  great  friends, 
and  she  dictated  to  me  the  whole  of  her  biography, 
and  most  romantic  and  interesting  it  is.  I  took  a 
great  interest  in  the  poor  thing.  She  was  devoted  to 
her  Shaykh,  whereat  I  marvelled  greatly.  Gossip  said 
that  he  had  other  wives,  but  she  assured  me  that  he 
had  not,  and  that  both  her  brother  Lord  Digby  and 
the  British  Consul  required  a  legal  and  official  state- 
ment to  that  effect  before  they  were  married.  She 
appeared  to  be  quite  foolishly  in  love  with  him  (and 
I  fully  comprehend  any  amount  of  sacrifice  for  the 
man  one  loves — the  greater  the  better),  though  the 
object  of  her  devotion  astonished  me.  Her  eyes 
often  used  to  fill  with  tears  when  talking  of  England, 
her  people,  and  old  times ;  and  when  we  became 
more  intimate,  she  spoke  to  me  of  every  detail  of 
her  erring  but  romantic  career.  It  was  easy  to  see 
that  Schwartzenburg  had  been  the  love  of  her  life, 
for  her  eyes  would  light  up  with  a  glory  when  she 
mentioned  him,  and  she  whispered  his  name  with 
bated  breath.  It  was  his  desertion  which  wrecked  her 


396       Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

life.  Poor  thing  !  she  was  far  more  sinned  against 
than  sinning. 

Our  other  friend  at  Damascus  was  the  famous  Abd  el 
Kadir.  Every  one  knows  his  history :  every  one  has 
heard  of  his  hopeless  struggles  for  the  independence  of 
Algeria  ;  his  capture  and  imprisonment  in  France  from 
1847  to  ^52,  when  he  was  set  free  by  Louis  Napoleon 
on  the  intercession  of  Lord  Londonderry.  More  than 
that,  Louis  Napoleon  was  magnanimous  enough  to 
pension  him,  and  sent  him  to  Damascus,  where  he  was 
living  when  we  came,  surrounded  by  five  hundred 
faithful  Algerians.  He  loved  the  English,  but  he  was 
very  loyal  to  Louis  Napoleon.  He  was  dark,  and  a 
splendid-looking  man  with  a  stately  bearing,  and 
perfectly  self-possessed.  He  always  dressed  in  snow 
white,  turban  and  burnous,  with  not  a  single  ornament 
except  his  jewelled  arms,  which  were  superb.  He  was 
every  inch  a  soldier  and  a  sultan,  and  his  mind  was 
as  beautiful  as  his  face.  Both  he  and  Richard  were 
Master-Sufi,  and  they  greatly  enjoyed  a  talk  together, 
both  speaking  purest  Arabic. 

When  I  look  back  on  those  dear  days  and  friends  in 
Damascus,  my  eyes  fill  and  my  heart  throbs  at  the 
memories  which  crowd  upon  me.  When  I  think  of 
all  those  memories,  none  is  dearer  to  me  than  the 
recollection  of  the  evenings  which  we  four  —  Lady 
Ellenborough,  Abd  el  Kadir,  Richard,  and  myself — 
used  to  spend  together  on  the  top  of  our  house.  Often 
after  my  reception  was  over  and  the  sun  was  setting, 
we  used  to  ask  these  two  to  stay  behind  the  others  and 
have  a  little  supper  with  us,  and  we  would  go  up  to  the 


Earlg  Dags  at  Damascus  397 

roof,  where  it  was  prepared,  and  where  mattresses  and 
the  cushions  of  the  divans  were  spread  about,  and  have 
our  evening  meal  ;  and  after  that  we  would  smoke  our 
narghilehs,  and  talk  and  talk  and  talk  far  into  the 
night,  about  things  above,  things  on  the  earth,  and 
things  under  the  earth.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
scene  on  the  housetop,  backed  as  it  was  by  the  sublime 
mountain,  a  strip  of  sand  between  it  and  us,  and  on 
the  other  three  sides  was  the  view  over  Damascus 
and  beyond  the  desert.  It  was  all  wild,  romantic,  and 
solemn  ;  and  sometimes  we  would  pause  in  our  con- 
versation to  listen  to  the  sounds  around  us  :  the  last 
call  to  prayer  on  the  minaret-top,  the  soughing  of  the 
wind  through  the  mountain-gorges,  and  the  noise  of  the 
water-wheel  in  the  neighbouring  orchard. 

I  have  said  we  smoked,  and  that  included  Lady 
Ellenborough  and  myself.  I  must  confess  to  the  soft 
impeachment,  despite  insular  prejudices  ;  and  I  would 
advise  any  woman  who  sojourns  in  the  East  to  learn  to 
smoke,  if  she  can.  I  am  no  admirer  of  a  big  cigar  in  a 
woman's  mouth,  or  a  short  clay ;  but  I  know  of  nothing 
more  graceful  or  enjoyable  than  a  cigarette,  and  even 
more  so  is  the  narghileh,  or  even  the  chibouque,  which, 
however,  is  quite  a  man's  pipe. 

I  must  add  that  when  we  were  in  the  East  Richard 
and  I  made  a  point  of  leading  two  lives.  We  were 
always  thoroughly  English  in  our  Consulate,  and 
endeavoured  to  set  an  example  of  the  way  in  which 
England  should  be  represented  abroad,  and  in  our 
official  life  we  strictly  conformed  to  English  customs 
and  conventions ;  but  when  we  were  off  duty,  so 


398       ttbe  tRomance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JSurton 

to  speak,  we  used  to  live  a  great  deal  as  natives, 
and  so  obtained  experience  of  the  inner  Eastern  life. 
Richard's  friendship  with  the  Mohammedans,  and  his 
perfect  mastery  of  the  Arabic  and  Persian  languages 
and  literature,  naturally  put  him  into  intimate  relations 
with  the  oriental  authorities  and  the  Arab  tribes,  and 
he  was  always  very  popular  among  them,  with  one 
exception,  and  that  was  the  Turkish  Wali,  or  Governor, 
aforesaid.  Richard  was  my  guide  in  all  things  ;  and 
since  he  adapted  himself  to  the  native  life,  I  endeavoured 
to  adapt  myself  to  it  also,  not  only  because  it  was  my 
duty,  but  because  I  loved  it.  For  instance,  though  we 
always  wore  European  dress  in  Damascus  and  Beyrout, 
we  wore  native  dress  in  the  desert.  I  always  wore  the 
men's  dress  on  our  expeditions  in  the  desert  and  up  the 
country.  By  that  I  mean  the  dress  of  the  Arab  men. 
This  is  not  so  dreadful  as  Mrs.  Grundy  may  suppose, 
as  it  was  all  drapery,  and  does  not  show  the  figure. 
There  was  nothing  but  the  face  to  show  the  curious 
whether  you  were  a  man  or  a  woman,  and  I  used  to 
tuck  my  kuffiyyah  up  to  only  show  my  eyes.  When 
we  wore  Eastern  clothes,  we  always  ate  as  the  Easterns 
ate.  If  I  went  to  a  bazar,  I  frequently  used  to  dress 
like  a  Moslem  woman  with  my  face  covered,  and  sit  in 
the  shops  and  let  my  Arab  maid  do  the  talking.  They 
never  suspected  me,  and  so  I  heard  all  their  gossip  and 
entered  into  something  of  their  lives.  The  women 
frequently  took  me  into  the  mosque  in  this  garb,  but 
to  the  harim  I  always  went  in  my  European  clothes. 
Richard  and  I  lived  the  Eastern  life  thoroughly,  and 
we  loved  it. 


Earl£  2>a$s  at  Bamascus  399 

We  went  to  every  kind  of  ceremony,  whether  it  was 
a  circumcision,  or  a  wedding,  or  a  funeral,  or  a  dervish 
dance,  or  anything  that  was  going  on  ;  and  we  mixed 
with  all  classes,  and  religions,  and  races,  and  tongues. 
I  remember  my  first  invitation  was  to  a  grand  fete  to 
celebrate  the  circumcision  of  a  youth  about  ten  years  of 
age.  He  was  very  pretty,  and  was  dressed  in  gorgeous 
garments  covered  with  jewellery.  Singing,  dancing, 
and  feasting  went  on  for  about  three  days.  The  cere- 
mony took  place  quite  publicly.  There  was  a  loud 
clang  of  music  and  firing  of  guns  to  drown  the  boy's 
cries,  and  with  one  stroke  of  a  circular  knife  the  opera- 
tion was  finished  in  a  second.  The  part  cut  off  was 
then  handed  round  on  a  silver  salver,  as  if  to  force 
all  present  to  attest  that  the  rite  had  been  performed. 
I  felt  quite  sick,  and  English  modesty  overpowered 
curiosity,  and  I  could  not  look.  Later  on,  when  I  grew 
more  used  to  Eastern  ways,  I  was  forced  to  accept  the 
compliment  paid  to  the  highest  rank,  and  a  great  com- 
pliment to  me  as  a  Christian,  to  hold  the  boy  in  my 
arms  whilst  the  ceremony  was  being  performed.  It  was 
rather  curious  at  first  to  be  asked  to  a  circumcision,  as 
one  might  be  asked  to  a  christening  in  England  or  a 
"  small  and  early." 

For  the  first  three  months  of  my  life  at  Damascus 
I  only  indulged  in  short  excursions,  but  Richard  went 
away  on  longer  expeditions,  often  for  days,  sometimes 
on  business  and  sometimes  to  visit  the  Druze  chiefs. 
I  have  said  that  our  house  was  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  from  Damascus,  and  whilst  Richard  was  away  on 
one  of  these  expeditions  I  broke  through  a  stupid  rule. 


Ubc  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcg  JSurton 

It  was  agreed  that  I  could  never  dine  out  or  go  to 
a  soiree  in  Damascus,  because  after  sunset  the  roads 
between  Damascus  and  our  house  on  the  hillside  were 
infested  with  Kurds.  I  was  tired  of  being  "  gated  " 
in  this  way,  so  I  sent  to  the  Chief  of  the  Police,  and 
told  him  I  intended  to  dine  out  when  I  chose  and  where 
I  chose,  and  to  return  at  all  hours — any  hours  I  pleased. 
He  looked  astonished,  so  I  gave  him  a  present.  He 
looked  cheerful,  and  I  then  told  him  to  make  it  his 
business  that  I  was  never  to  be  attacked  or  molested. 
I  showed  him  my  revolver,  and  said,  "  I  will  shoot  the 
first  man  who  comes  within  five  yards  of  me  or  my 
horse."  I  went  down  twice  to  Damascus  while 
Richard  was  away  the  first  time,  and  I  found  all  the 
gates  of  the  city  open  and  men  posted  with  lanterns 
everywhere.  I  took  an  escort  of  four  of  my  servants, 
and  I  told  them  plainly  that  the  first  man  who  ran  away 
I  would  shoot  from  behind.  I  came  back  one  night 
at  eleven  o'clock,  and  another  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  nothing  happened. 

When  I  knew  that  Richard  was  coming  back  from 
the  desert,  I  rode  out  to  meet  him  about  eight  miles. 
I  did  not  meet  him  until  sunset.  He  said  he 
knew  a  short  cut  to  Damascus  across  the  mountains, 
but  we  lost  our  way.  Night  came  on,  and  we  were 
wandering  about  amongst  the  rocks  and  precipices 
on  the  mountains.  We  could  not  see  our  hands 
before  our  faces.  Our  horses  would  not  move,  and 
we  had  to  dismount,  and  grope  our  way,  and  lead 
them.  Richard's  horse  was  dead-beat,  and  mine 
was  too  fiery ;  and  we  had  to  wait  till  the  moon 


Barlg  Bays  at  Damascus  401 

rose,  reaching  home  at  last  half  dead  with  fatigue  and 
hunger. 

Our  daily  life  at  Damascus,  when  we  were  not 
engaged  in  any  expedition  or  excursion,  was  much  as 
follows  :  We  rose  at  daybreak.  Richard  went  down 
every  day  to  his  Consulate  in  the  city  at  twelve 
o'clock,  and  remained  there  till  four  or  five.  We  had 
two  meals  a  day — breakfast  at  n  a.m.,  and  supper  at 
dusk.  At  the  breakfast  any  of  our  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances who  liked  used  to  drop  in  and  join  us  ; 
and  immediately  after  our  evening  meal  we  received 
friends,  if  any  came.  If  not,  Richard  used  to  read 
himself  to  sleep,  and  I  did  the  same.  Of  Richard's 
great  and  many  activities  at  Damascus,  of  his  difficult 
and  dangerous  work,  of  his  knowledge  of  Eastern 
character  and  Eastern  languages,  of  his  political  and 
diplomatic  talents,  all  of  which  made  him  just  the  man 
for  the  place,  I  have  written  elsewhere.  Here  I  have 
to  perform  the  infinitely  harder  task  of  speaking  of 
myself.  But  in  writing  of  my  daily  life  at  Damascus 
I  must  not  forget  that  my  first  and  best  work  was  to 
interest  myself  in  all  my  husband's  pursuits,  and  to  be, 
as  far  as  he  would  allow  me  to  be,  his  companion,  his 
private  secretary,  and  his  aide-de-camp.  Thus  I  saw 
and  learnt  much,  not  only  of  native  life,  but  also  of 
high  political  matters.  I  would  only  say  that  my  days 
were  all  too  short :  I  wish  they  had  been  six  hours 
longer.  When  not  helping  Richard,  my  work  consisted 
of  looking  after  my  house,  servants,  stables  and  horses, 
of  doing  a  little  gardening,  of  reading,  writing,  and 
studying,  of  trying  to  pick  up  Arabic,  of  receiving 

26 


402       ftbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  %at>2  JSurton 

visits  and  returning  them,  of  seeing  and  learning 
Damascus  thoroughly,  and  looking  after  the  poor  and 
sick  who  came  in  my  way.  I  often  also  had  a  gallop 
over  the  mountains  and  plains;  or  I  went  shooting, 
either  on  foot  or  on  horseback.  The  game  was  very 
wild  round  Damascus,  but  I  got  a  shot  at  red-legged 
partridges,  wild  duck,  quail,  snipe,  and  woodcock,  and 
I  seldom  came  home  with  an  empty  bag.  The  only 
time  I  ever  felt  lonely  was  during  the  long  winter 
nights  when  Richard  was  away.  In  the  summer  I  did 
not  feel  lonely,  because  I  could  always  go  and  smoke  a 
narghileh  with  the  women  at  the  water-side  in  a  neigh- 
bour's garden.  But  in  the  winter  it  was  not  possible 
to  do  this.  So  I  used  to  occupy  myself  with  music  or 
literature,  or  with  writing  these  rough  notes,  which  I 
or  some  one  else  will  put  together  some  day.  But 
more  often  than  not  I  sat  and  listened  to  the  stillness, 
broken  ever  and  anon  by  weird  sounds  outside. 
So  passed  our  life  at  Damascus. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THROUGH  THE  DESERT  TO  PALMYRA 
(1870) 

Who  is  this  that   cometh   up  from   the  wilderness,   leaning  upon  hei 
beloved  ? 

The  Song  of  Solomon. 

The  oracles  are  dumb ; 
No  voice  or  hideous  hum 
Runs  through  the  arched  roof  in  words  deceiving. 

MILTON. 

T"")  ICHARD  had  wished  ever  since  he  came  to 
Xv  Damascus  to  visit  Palmyra,  or  Tadmor,  in  the 
wilderness.  It  is  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
distant  in  the  open  desert.  His  main  reason  for  going 
there  was  his  private  wish  to  explore,  but  it  was  also 
his  official  duty  to  open  up  the  country,  now  infested 
with  hordes  of  wild  Bedawin  tribes,  who  attacked, 
robbed,  and  killed  right  and  left.  Several  Englishmen 
had  been  to  Palmyra,  but  always  with  a  large  escort 
of  the  tribe  of  El  Mezrab,  and  Richard  wanted  to 
break  through  the  system  which  this  tribe  had  of 
practically  levying  blackmail  upon  travellers,  which 
often  meant  as  much  as  six  thousand  francs,  as  each 

man   in   the    escort    costs    about    £2    a    head.      We 

403 


404       Ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

decided  therefore  to  go  without  any  Bedawin  escort,  to 
show  that  it  could  be  done,  and  thus  to  throw  open  this 
most  interesting  part  of  Syria  to  travellers.  At  first 
a  lot  of  people  wanted  to  join  us  in  the  expedition  ; 
but  when  it  came  to  the  point  they  gradually  sneaked 
away,  and  many  of  them  wept  and  wished  us  good- 
bye, and  thought  it  madness.  Indeed,  so  much  was 
said  that  I  set  out  with  more  than  a  suspicion  that 
we  were  marching  to  our  deaths.  But  Richard  wished 
it,  and  that  was  enough  for  me.  He  never  permitted 
any  obstacle  to  hinder  his  progress.  He  made  up  his 
mind,  to  travel  without  the  tribe  of  El  Mezrab,  and 
he  gave  me  the  option  of  going  with  him,  and  I  said, 
as  I  always  said,  "  I  will  follow  you  to  the  death."  It 
was  rather  funny  to  find  the  excuses  which  people  made 
tor  not  going  with  us.  One  had  business  in  Beyrout, 
another  was  ill,  the  third  had  married,  and  so  on.  So 
when  the  day  of  departure  dawned  (April  i  ;  I  had 
been  in  Damascus  three  months)  our  faithful  friends 
dwindled  down  to  two — the  Russian  Consul,  and  a 
French  traveller,  the  Vicomte  de  Perrochel. 

On  the  morning  of  our  departure  we  had  a  very 
lively  breakfast.  As  I  have  said,  it  was  our  custom  to 
let  our  friends  drop  in  for  this  meal,  and  on  this 
occasion  we  found  ourselves  surrounded  by  every  kind 
of  Eastern  figure.  They  evidently  thought  us  mad — 
especially  me.  My  dress  was  very  picturesque,  and  I 
was  vain  enough  to  turn  myself  round  and  round,  at 
their  request,  that  they  might  view  it,  which  they  did 
with  cries  of  admiration.  It  consisted  of  large  yellow 
button  boots  and  gaiters,  an  English  riding-habit  with 


tbe  Desert  to  palmyra          4°s 

the  long  ends  of  the  skirt  tucked  in  to  look  like  their 
Eastern  baggy  trousers,  an  Eastern  belt  with  revolver, 
dagger,  and  cartridges.  My  hair  was  all  tucked  up 
under  the  tarbash^  and  I  wore  one  of  the  Bedawin  veils 
to  the  waist,  only  showing  a  bit  of  face.  The  veil  was 
of  all  colours,  chiefly  gold  braid,  bound  by  a  chocolate 
and  gold  circlet  near  the  forehead.  Richard  slung  over 
my  back  and  round  my  neck  a  whistle  and  compass,  in 
case  of  my  being  lost.  I  had  brought  out  two  first-rate 
horses,  both  stallions,  one  half-bred,  the  other  three- 
quarters  ;  they  were  called  Salim  and  Harpash.  An 
Arab  was  to  ride  one,  and  lead  the  second  when  I  was 
riding  something  else.  The  first  stallion  would  be  good 
for  travelling  and  fighting,  and  the  second  for  bolting, 
if  needful.  I  knew  I  had  to  ride  erect  half  a  day  at  a 
stretch,  which  meant  about  fifteen  or  twenty  miles. 

We  set  forth  with  great  pomp  and  ceremony ;  for 
the  Mushir,  or  Commander-in-chief,  and  a  large  caval- 
cade saw  us  out  of  the  city,  and  exchanged  affectionate 
farewells  outside  the  gates,  evidently  not  expecting  to 
see  us  again.  This  being  the  first  day,  we  made  only  a 
three  hours'  march  ;  it  cleared  us  of  Damascus  and  its 
environs,  and  we  camped  early  on  the  edge  of  the 
desert.  I  cannot  convey  to  you  the  charm  of  a  Syrian 
camp.  I  shall  never  forget  my  first  night  in  the  desert. 
The  horses  were  all  picketed  about ;  the  men  were  lying 
here  and  there  in  the  silvery  moonlight,  which  lit  up 
our  tripod  and  kettle  ;  and  the  jackals  howled  and 
capered  as  they  sniffed  the  savoury  bones.  People  talk 
of  danger  when  surrounded  by  jackals,  but  I  have 
always  found  them  most  cowardly  ;  they  would  run 


406      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xat>£  3Burton 

away  if  a  pocket-handkerchief  were  shaken  at  them. 
It  was  the  prettiest  thing  to  see  them  gambolling  about 
in  the  moonlight ;  but  after  we  had  turned  in  a  strange 
effect  was  produced  when  a  jackal,  smelling  the  cookery, 
ran  up  round  the  tent,  for  the  shadow  on  the  white 
canvas  looked  as  large  as  a  figure  exaggerated  in  a  magic 
lantern.  During  my  first  night  under  canvas  I  was 
awakened  by  hearing  a  pack  coming — a  wild,  unearthly 
sound.  I  thought  it  was  a  raid  of  the  Bedawin  rushing 
down  upon  us,  and  that  this  was  the  war-cry ;  but  the 
weird  yell  swept  down  upon  us,  passed,  and  died  away 
in  the  distance.  I  grew  to  love  the  sound. 

The  next  morning  the  camp  began  stirring  at  dawn. 
It  was  bitterly  cold.  We  boiled  water  and  made  some 
tea.  We  hurried  our  dressing,  saw  the  animals  fed 
and  watered,  tents  struck,  things  packed  up,  and  the 
baggage  animals  loaded  and  sent  on  ahead  with  orders 
to  await  us  at  Jayrud.  We  always  found  it  better 
to  see  our  camp  off  ahead  of  us,  otherwise  the  men 
loitered  and  did  not  reach  the  night-halt  in  time.  We 
started  a  little  later.  The  way  to  Jayrud  was  across  a 
sandy  plain,  with  patches  of  houses  here  and  there,  and 
a  village  at  long  intervals.  A  village  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  desert  means  twenty  or  thirty  huts  of  stones  and 
mud,  each  shaped  like  a  box,  and  exactly  the  same 
colour  as  the  ground.  We  breakfasted  in  a  ruined 
mosque.  After  that  we  started  again,  and  came  to  a 
vast  plain  of  white  sand  and  rock,  which  lasted  until  we 
reached  Jayrud.  It  was  about  fifteen  hours'  ride  from 
Damascus.  A  little  way  outside  Jayrud  we  were 
caught  in  a  sand-storm,  which  I  shall  never  forget. 


407 

Richard  and  I  were  both  well  mounted.  When  it 
came  on,  he  made  a  sign  in  which  direction  I  was  to  go. 
There  was  no  time  to  speak,  and  we  both  galloped  into 
the  storm  as  hard  as  we  could  pelt.  The  sand  and 
wind  blinded  me,  and  I  had  no  idea  where  I  was  going. 
Once  I  did  not  see  that  I  was  riding  straight  at  a  deep 
pit ;  and  though  Arab  horses  seldom  or  never  leap,  mine 
cleared  it  with  one  bound.  After  that  I  was  wiser,  and 
I  threw  the  reins  on  Salim's  neck,  for  his  eyes  were 
better  than  mine.  This  continued  for  three  hours,  and 
at  last  we  reached  Jayrud,  where  we  had  arranged  to 
halt  for  the  night. 

Jayrud  is  a  large  clean  village  in  the  middle  of  the 
salt  and  sandy  plain.  We  stopped  for  the  night  with 
Da' as  Agha,  who  was  a  border  chieftain,  and  a  some- 
what wild  and  dangerous  character,  though  Richard 
knew  how  to  tame  him.  His  house  was  large  and 
roomy,  with  spacious  walls  and  high-raftered  ceilings. 
While  we  were  at  supper  crowds  of  villagers  collected 
to  see  us,  and  the  courtyard  and  the  house  were  filled 
with  and  surrounded  by  all  sorts  of  guests  from  different 
Bedawin  tribes.  Camels  were  lying  about,  baggage  was 
piled  here  and  there,  and  horses  were  picketed  in  all 
directions  ;  it  was  a  thoroughly  oriental  picture. 

An  unpleasant  incident  happened.  I  had  engaged 
a  confidential  man  as  a  head  servant  and  interpreter. 
He  was  an  Arab,  but  he  spoke  French.  He  was  an 
exceedingly  clever,  skilful  man,  and  Richard  told  him 
ofF  to  wait  on  me  during  the  journey,  and  to  ride  after 
me  when  needful.  When  we  got  to  Jayrud,  as  soon 
as  I  dismounted,  I  took  Richard's  horse  and  my  own 


408       ZTbe  iRomance  of  Ssabel  Xaop  JSurton 

and  walked  them  up  and  down  to  cool.  As  soon  as 
my  man  and  another  came  up  I  gave  them  the  reins, 
saying,  "  After  our  hard  ride  in  the  sand-storm  take  as 
much  care  of  the  horses  as  though  they  were  children." 
He  answered,  "  Be  rested,  Sitti "  ;  but  an  unpleasant 
smile  came  across  his  face,  which  might  have  warned 
me.  I  ought  to  have  mentioned  that  three  times  since 
we  had  set  out  from  Damascus  he  had  ridden  short 
across  me  when  we  were  at  full  gallop.  The  first  time 
I  begged  him  not  to  do  so,  as  it  was  very  dangerous, 
and  the  second  time  I  threatened  him,  and  the  third 
time  I  broke  my  hunting-whip  across  his  face.  He 
merely  said,  "  All  is  finished,"  and  hung  back.  How- 
ever, I  did  not  think  anything  more  of  it,  and  I  went 
in  and  had  my  supper.  While  we  were  eating,  and 
my  back  was  turned,  he  threw  the  reins  of  my  horse 
to  a  bystander,  and,  drawing  a  sword,  he  cut  the  throat 
of  the  good,  useful,  little  horse  which  I  had  hired  for 
him,  and  which  he  had  been  riding  all  day.  I  saw 
people  running,  and  heard  a  certain  amount  of  con- 
fusion while  I  was  eating  ;  but  being  very  tired  and 
hungry,  I  did  not  look  round.  Presently  somebody 
let  it  out.  I  rose  in  a  rage,  determined  to  dismiss  the 
man  at  once  ;  but  Richard  checked  me  with  a  word,  and 
pointed  out  the  unwisdom  of  making  him  an  open 
enemy,  and  desired  me  to  put  a  good  face  on  the 
matter  till  the  end  of  the  journey.  The  explanation 
of  the  little  beast's  conduct  was  this.  He  had  really 
wanted  to  ride  a  thorough-bred  horse,  but  it  was  ridden 
instead  by  my  dragoman's  brother,  and  his  rage  had 
been  uncontrollable  when  he  saw  the  coveted  animal 


tbe  Desert  to  palmyra          4°9 

caracolling  before  him.  Moreover,  he  had  a  spite 
against  me,  and  he  thought  that  if  he  killed  his  own 
horse  I  should  give  him  a  better  one,  by  some  process 
of  oriental  reasoning  which  I  do  not  pretend  to  under- 
stand. However,  he  was  mistaken,  for  I  mounted  him 
after  that  on  the  vilest  old  screw  in  the  camp. 

Next  morning  we  woke  early.  Mules,  donkeys, 
camels,  horses,  and  mares  were  screaming  and  kicking, 
and  the  men  running  about  cursing  and  swearing.  In 
such  a  Babel  it  was  impossible  to  feel  drowsy.  I  felt 
very  faint  as  we  set  out  from  Jayrud.  The  salt 
marshes  in  the  distance  were  white  and  glistening,  and 
the  heat  spread  over  them  in  a  white  mist  which  looked 
like  a  mirage  bearing  fantastic  ships.  We  breakfasted 
at  the  next  village,  Atneh,  in  a  harim,  the  women 
having  all  gone  out.  It  was  the  house  of  a  bride,  and 
she  had  hung  all  her  new  garments  round  the  walls, 
as  we  display  our  wedding  presents  pour  encourager  les 
autres.  When  the  women  came  back,  the  men  retired 
from  the  harim.  Atneh  was  the  last  settlement,  the 
last  water,  the  last  human  abode  between  Jayrud  and 
Karyatayn — a  long  distance.  After  this  we  had  a 
lengthy  desert  ride  in  wind  and  rain,  sleet  and  hail,  and 
the  ground  was  full  of  holes ;  but  it  was  a  splendid  ride 
all  the  same.  The  Arabs,  in  their  gaudy  jackets,  white 
trousers,  and  gold  turbans,  galloped  about  furiously, 
brandishing  and  throwing  their  lances,  and  playing 
the  usual  tricks  of  horsemanship— jerid.  We  met  a 
terrible  storm  of  thunder  and  lightning,  and  between- 
whiles  the  fiery  sun  sent  down  his  beams  upon  a 
parched  plain.  The  desert  ground  was  alternately  flint, 


410       Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  OLaog  Burton 

limestone,  and  smooth  gravel ;  not  a  tree  or  shrub,  not 
a  human  being  or  animal,  was  to  be  seen.  The  colours 
were  yellow  sand  and  blue  sky,  blue  sky  and  yellow 
sand,  yellow  and  blue  for  ever. 

We  arrived  at  dusk  at  the  spot  where  we  had  told 
our  advance  guard  to  pitch  the  tents.  We  found 
everything  ready,  and  after  our  horses  were  cared  for 
we  dined.  That  night  for  the  first  time  we  slept  in 
our  clothes,  with  revolvers  and  guns  by  our  sides. 
The  men  took  turns  to  keep  watch,  so  that  we  might 
not  be  surprised  by  a  Ghazu,  a  tribe  of  six  or  seven 
hundred  Bedawin,  who  go  out  for  marauding  purposes. 
The  Ghazis  charge  furiously,  with  their  lances  couched. 
If  you  have  the  pluck  to  stand  still  until  they  are 
within  an  inch  of  your  nose,  and  ask  what  they  want, 
they  drop  their  lances  ;  for  they  respect  courage,  but 
there  is  no  mercy  if  you  show  the  white  feather.  We 
meant  to  say  to  them,  "We  are  the  English  and 
Russian  Consuls  travelling  on  business.  If  you  touch 
us,  there  will  be  consequences  ;  if  you  want  a  present, 
you  shall  have  it  ;  but  you  are  not  to  shame  us  by 
taking  our  horses  and  arms,  and  if  you  insist  we  will 
fight."  There  was  a  driving  wind  that  night,  and  1 
feared  the  exposure  and  hardship  if  the  tents  were 
blown  down  and  the  fire  blown  out,  as  it  threatened 
We  could  scarcely  keep  a  lamp  or  candle  alight.  No 
Ghazis  came. 

We  rose  next  morning  in  the  cold,  dark,  misty,  and 
freezing  dawn.  We  had  some  difficulty  in  starting 
our  camp  ;  the  horses  were  shivering,  and  the  muleteers 
and  camel-men  objected.  We  had  a  long  and  lonely 


tbe  Desert  to  palmpra          4" 

ride  through  the  same  desolate  valley  plain  as  yesterday, 
banked  on  either  side  in  the  distance  by  naked,  barren 
mountains,  and  we  were  very  thankful  when  the  sun 
came  out.  We  breakfasted  at  a  ruined  khan,  and 
changed  our  horses.  Then  we  rode  on  and  on, 
seemingly  for  an  age,  with  no  change  ;  not  a  bird 
nor  a  tree  nor  a  sound  save  the  clattering  of  our 
horses'  hoofs.  At  length,  when  within  an  hour  oi 
Karyatayn,  we  got  a  little  excitement.  On  slightly 
rising  ground  about  five  miles  off  we  espied,  by  the 
aid  of  field-glasses,  something  which  we  discovered  to 
be  a  large  party  of  mounted  Bedawin.  We  sounded 
our  whistles,  and  our  stragglers  came  in  till  we  all  were 
collected.  I  ought  to  mention  here  that  from  the 
time  of  our  leaving  Damascus  stragglers  had  joined 
us  continually  from  every  village.  Naturally  the 
number  of  our  camp-followers  became  great,  until 
we  assumed  a  most  formidable  appearance,  numbering 
nearly  eighty  in  all.  As  soon  as  our  stragglers  reached 
us  we  formed  a  line,  and  the  opposite  party  did  the 
same.  They  then  galloped  to  meet  us,  and  we  did 
likewise.  When  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  each 
other  we  pulled  up,  and  they  pulled  up.  We  fully 
expected  a  charge  and  a  skirmish,  so  we  halted  in  a 
line  and  consulted ;  they  did  the  same.  Three  of  us 
then  rode  out  to  meet  them  ;  three  horsemen  of  their 
line  then  did  likewise.  They  hailed  us,  and  asked  us 
who  we  were  and  what  we  wanted.  We  told  them 
we  were  the  English  and  Russian  Consuls  passing  to 
Palmyra,  and  asked  in  our  turn  who  they  were.  They 
replied  that  they  were  the  representatives  of  the  Shaykh 


412       Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Zaos  JSurton 

of  Karyatayn,  and  his  fighting  men,  and  that  they  bore 
invitations  to  us.  They  then  jumped  down  from  their 
horses  and  kissed  my  hand.  We  were  greeted  on  all 
sides,  and  escorted  in  triumph  to  the  village ;  the  men 
riding  jerid — that  is,  firing  from  horseback  at  full  speed, 
hanging  over  by  one  stirrup  with  the  bridle  in  their 
mouths,  quivering  their  long  lances  in  the  air,  throwing 
and  catching  them  again  at  full  gallop,  yelling  and 
shouting  their  war-cries.  It  was  a  wild  and  picturesque 
scene.  So  we  entered  Karyatayn,  went  to  the  house 
of  the  Shaykh,  and  dispatched  a  note  to  him. 

His  dwelling  was  a  big  mud  house,  with  a  large 
reception-room,  where  we  found  a  big  fire.  There 
was  a  separate  house  for  the  harim,  which  appeared 
numerous,  and  I  was  to  sleep  there  in  a  room  to  myself. 
Before  dinner,  while  we  were  enjoying  the  fire  and 
sitting  round  the  rug,  a  fat  young  Turkish  officer 
entered  with  an  insolent  look.  Thinking  he  had  come 
with  a  message  from  Omar  Beg,  a  Hungarian  brigadier- 
general  in  the  Turkish  service  who  was  stationed  here, 
we  saluted  in  the  usual  manner.  Without  returning  it, 
he  walked  up,  stepped  across  us,  flung  himself  on  our 
rug,  leaned  on  his  elbow,  and  with  an  impertinent  leer 
stared  in  our  faces  all  round  until  he  met  Richard's 
eye,  which  partook  of  something  of  the  tiger  kind, 
when  he  started  and  turned  pale.  Richard  called  out, 
"  Kawwasses  !  "  The  kawwasses  and  two  wardis  ran 
into  the  room.  <{  Remove  that  son  of  a  dog."  They 
seized  him,  fat  and  big  as  he  was,  as  if  he  had  been  a 
rabbit ;  and  although  he  kicked  and  screamed  lustily, 
carried  him  out  of  the  house.  I  saw  them  give  him 


Ubrougb  tbe  Desert  to  palmgra          413 

some  vicious  bumps  against  the  walls  as  they  went  out 
of  the  door  into  the  village,  where  they  dropped  him 
into  the  first  pool  of  mud,  which  represented  the  village 
horse-pond.  By-and-by  Omar  Beg  came  down  to  dine 
with  us.  We  all  sat  round  on  the  ground  and  ate 
of  several  dishes,  chiefly  a  kid  stuffed  with  rice  and 
•pistachios.  After  dinner  we  reported  to  Omar  Beg  the 
conduct  of  his  sous-officer,  and  he  said  that  we  had 
done  very  well,  and  he  was  glad  of  the  opportunity  of 
making  an  example  of  him,  for  he  was  a  bad  lot ;  and 
a  Turkish  soldier  when  he  is  bad  is  bad  indeed.  He 
had  committed  a  gross  insult  against  us,  and  it  is  always 
best  in  the  East  to  resent  an  insult  at  once. 

Our  next  day  was  a  pleasant,  lazy  day,  during  which 
we  inspected  Karyatayn  at  our  leisure.  We  rested, 
read,  and  wrote,  and  made  a  few  extra  preparations  for 
the  march.  I  went  to  call  on  the  wife  of  Omar  Beg, 
who  was  the  daughter  of  the  well-known  German 
savant  Herr  Mordtmann.  She  was  living  with  her 
husband  quite  contentedly  in  this  desolate  place,  in  a 
mud  hut,  and  her  only  companions  were  a  hyena  and  a 
lynx,  which  slept  on  her  bed.  The  hyena  greeted  me 
at  the  gate  ;  and  though  I  was  not  prepared  for  it,  I 
innocently  did  the  right  thing.  It  came  and  sniffed  at 
my  hands,  and  then  jumped  up  and  put  its  paws  on  my 
shoulder  and  smelt  my  face.  "  Oh,"  I  thought,  "  if  it 
takes  a  bit  out  of  my  cheek,  what  shall  I  do  ? "  But 
I  stood  as  still  as  a  statue,  and  tried  not  to  breathe, 
looking  steadily  in  its  eyes  all  the  while.  At  last  it 
made  up  its  mind  to  be  friendly,  jumped  down,  and 
ran  before  me  into  the  house.  Here  I  found  the  lynx 


414      llbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

on  the  divan,  which  sprang  at  me,  mewed,  and  lashed 
its  tail  till  Madame  Omar  came.  She  was  a  charming 
German  lady;  but  her  husband  kept  her  secluded  in  the 
harim  like  a  Moslem  woman.  She  told  me  I  had  done 
quite  the  right  thing  with  the  hyena.  If  people  began 
to  scream,  it  took  a  pleasure  in  frightening  them.  I 
found  this  out  a  little  later,  for  it  got  into  Richard's 
room,  and  I  found  him,  the  Russian  Consul,  and  the 
Vicomte  de  Perrochel  all  sitting  on  the  divan  with  their 
legs  well  tucked  under  them,  clutching  their  sticks,  and 
looking  absurdly  uncomfortable  at  the  affreuse  bete^  as 
the  Vicomte  called  it. 

I  had  had  a  tiring  day,  and  was  glad  to  go  to  the 
harim  that  night  and  turn  into  my  little  room.  But, 
alas  !  no  sooner  had  I  got  in  there  than  about  fifty 
women  came  to  pay  me  a  visit.  By  way  of  being 
gracious,  I  had  given  a  pair  of  earrings  to  the  head 
wife  of  the  Shaykh,  and  that  caused  the  most  awful 
jealousy  and  quarrelling  among  them.  I  was  dying  to 
go  to  bed,  but  they  went  on  nagging  at  one  another, 
until  at  last  a  man,  a  husband  or  a  brother,  came  of  his 
own  accord  to  tell  them  to  take  leave,  and  upon  their 
refusing  he  drove  them  all  out  of  the  room  like  a  flock 
of  sheep.  Fortunately  I  had  a  bolt  to  my  door,  so 
that  I  was  able  to  shut  them  out.  My  sleep,  however, 
was  very  much  disturbed,  for  they  kept  on  trying  the 
doors  and  the  shutters  nearly  all  night.  They  have 
an  intense  curiosity  concerning  European  women,  and 
during  my  toilet  next  morning  I  could  see  fifty  pairs 
of  eyes  at  fifty  chinks  in  the  windows  and  doors.  It 
was  really  very  embarrassing,  because  I  could  not  tell 


tbe  Desert  to  ipalm^ra          415 


the  sex  of  the  eyes,  though  I  imagined  that  they 
belonged  to  my  visitors  of  the  night  before.  Dressing 
as  I  did  en  Amazone  seemed  to  afford  them  infinite 
glee  ;  and  when  I  arrived  at  the  cloth  nether  garments 
of  my  riding-habit,  they  went  into  shrieks  of  laughter. 
However,  I  put  a  bold  face  on  it,  and  sallied  forth  to 
the  square  of  the  village,  where  I  found  the  rest  of  our 
party.  Our  horses  were  being  led  up  and  down  by 
the  soldiers  ;  our  camels  with  water  in  goats'  skins, 
and  our  baggage  beasts,  our  camp-followers,  and  our 
free-lances,  were  drawn  up  on  one  side.  Omar  Beg 
accompanied  us  out  of  the  village  with  a  troop  of 
cavalry,  and  started  us  with  forty  dromedaries,  each 
carrying  two  soldiers.  The  cavalcade  looked  very  fine, 
and  when  Omar  Beg  took  his  leave  of  us  we  were 
about  one  hundred  and  sixty  strong. 

We  had  a  long  day's  march  through  the  desert.  It 
was  very  hot.  We  went  through  a  wild  defile,  rested, 
and  climbed  up  a  mountain.  We  then  returned  to  the 
plains,  and  in  the  afternoon  we  saw  a  mirage  —  castles 
and  green  fields.  We  were  late  in  finding  our  tents, 
and  very  tired.  Again  we  did  not  undress,  but  slept 
with  our  weapons  by  our  sides. 

The  next  morning  we  set  out  again  at  6.30.  We 
rode  towards  a  mountain  in  the  distance,  and  defiled 
by  a  picturesque  and  dangerous  ledge  amongst  craggy 
peaks.  We  had  heard  that  the  Bedawin  knew  of  a 
well  hereabouts,  and  we  determined  to  find  it.  We 
discovered  it,  and  so  abolished  the  worst  difficulty 
which  travellers  had  to  undergo  in  visiting  Palmyra. 
We  rested  by  the  well,  which  was  full  of  the  purest 


416      ube  TRomance  of  Ssabel  Xafcg  Burton 

water.  When  sitting  by  it,  we  heard  guns  echoing  like 
thunder  in  the  mountains.  We  thought  it  might  mean 
a  Bedawin  attack ;  but  probably  it  was  a  signal,  and  they 
found  us  too  strong.  They  were  on  our  track  the  whole 
time.  After  an  hour  we  descended  once  more  into  the 
arid  plain,  and  rode  on  and  on.  At  last  we  descried 
dimly  the  khan  which  was  to  be  our  night  halt.  It 
seemed  quite  close,  but  the  nearer  we  rode  the  farther 
it  seemed.  We  reached  it  at  last,  a  fine  old  pile, 
deserted  and  solitary,  which  looked  splendid  in  the 
sunset.  Our  camp  by  moonlight  will  ever  live  in  my 
memory  :  the  black  tents,  the  animals  picketed,  the 
camels  resting,  the  Turkish  soldiery  seated  around,  and 
the  wild  men  and  muleteers  singing  and  dancing. 

On  this  night,  as  on  all  nights,  I  had  always  plenty 
to  do.  It  was  Richard's  business  to  take  the  notes 
and  sketches,  observations  and  maps,  and  to  gather  all 
the  information.  I  acted  as  his  secretary  and  aide-de- 
camp. My  other  business  was  to  take  care  of  the 
stable,  see  that  the  horses  were  properly  groomed, 
and  look  after  any  sick  or  wounded  men.  My  duties 
varied  according  to  the  place  in  which  we  halted  for 
the  night.  If  it  were  near  an  inhabited  place,  Richard 
sat  in  state  on  his  divan,  and  received  the  chiefs  with 
narghilehs  and  sherbet.  I  saluted,  and  walked  off  with 
the  horses,  and  saw  that  they  were  properly  groomed 
and  fed.  Sometimes  I  groomed  my  own  horse  and 
Richard's  too,  if  I  did  not  feel  sure  that  they  would 
be  properly  attended  to.  I  would  then  go  back  to 
my  husband,  sit  on  the  divan  at  a  respectful  distance 
and  in  a  respectful  attitude,  speak  if  spoken  to,  and 


ttbrougb  tbe  Desert  to  ipalmyra          417 

accept,  if  invited,  a  little  sherbet  or  a  narghileh.  I 
then  saluted,  went  again  to  see  that  the  horses  were 
properly  picketed  for  the  night,  prepared  my  husband's 
supper,  and  returned  to  his  tent  for  supper  and  bed ; 
and  the  next  day  the  same  over  again.  So  far  as  I 
could  I  made  myself  useful,  and  adapted  myself  to  my 
surroundings  as  an  Eastern  woman  would  have  done. 

The  next  day,  our  eighth  from  leaving  Damascus,  we 
went  out  of  camp  at  6.30,  and  rode  over  the  hot  stony 
desert  for  five  hours.  Suddenly  we  descried  a  small 
lake,  but  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  Bedawin  were 
there  before  us.  At  first  we  thought  it  was  a  Ghazu ; 
but  we  found  afterwards  that  it  was  only  a  party  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  watering  their  animals  ;  they  could 
not  attack  us  until  they  had  time  to  collect  their  men, 
and  mustered  some  six  hundred  strong.  However,  they 
looked  "  nasty  "  ;  and  as  our  stragglers  were  all  over  the 
place,  to  attract  their  attention,  and  bring  us  together,  I 
asked  Richard's  leave  to  make  a  display  of  fir.  We 
put  an  orange  on  a  lance-point  seventy  yards  ofF.  I 
had  the  first  shot.  By  good  luck  I  hit  it,  and  by  better 
luck  still  they  did  not  ask  for  a  second,  which  I  might 
have  missed,  so  that  I  came  off  with  a  great  reputation. 
Everybody  fired  in  turns,  and  all  our  people  came  up 
by  degrees,  until  we  mustered  enough  to  fight  any 
Ghazu,  if  necessary.  We  then  formed  into  a  single 
line,  and  rode  until  the  remainder  of  the  day.  We 
approached  Palmyra  thus,  cheering  and  singing  war- 
songs  ;  and  I  am  sure  that  we  must  have  looked  very 
imposing. 

The  first  sight  of  Palmyra  is  like  a  regiment  of 

27 


418       Ube  Komance  of  -Jsabel  Xafcg  JSurton 

cavalry  drawn  up  in  single  line  ;  but  as  we  got  nearer 
gradually  the  ruins  began  to  stand  out  one  by  one  in 
the  sunlight,  and  a  grander  sight  I  have  never  looked 
upon,  so  gigantic,  so  extensive,  so  desolate  was  this 
splendid  city  of  the  dead  rising  out  of,  and  half  buried 
in,  a  sea  of  sand.  One  felt  as  if  one  were  wandering  in 
some  forgotten  world. 

The  Shaykh  of  Palmyra  and  his  people  came  out 
to  greet  us,  and  he  conducted  us  to  his  house.  We 
approached  it  over  the  massive  blocks  of  stone  that 
formed  the  pavement  and  by  a  flight  of  broad  steps. 
The  interior  of  Palmyra  resembles  a  group  of  wasps' 
nests  on  a  large  scale,  clinging  to  the  gigantic  walls  of  a 
ruined  temple.  The  people  were  hideous,  poor,  ragged, 
dirty,  and  diseased,  nearly  every  one  of  them  afflicted 
with  ophthalmia.  What  have  the  descendants  of  the 
great  Zenobia  done  to  come  to  this  ?  We  dined  at 
the  Shaykh's  house,  and  had  our  coffee  and  pipes. 
Later  we  returned  to  our  camp,  which  consisted  of 
our  five  tents  and  ten  for  the  eighty  soldiers.  It  was 
picturesquely  placed,  close  to  the  east  of  the  grand 
colonnade  of  Palmyra,  for  the  sake  of  being  near  the 
wells,  and  the  animals  were  picketed  as  much  as  possible 
in  the  shelter,  for  during  our  sojourn  there  we  suffered 
from  ice  and  snow,  sirocco,  burning  heat,  and  furious 
sou' westers.  We  had  two  sulphurous  wells,  one  to 
bathe  in,  and  the  other  to  drink  out  of.  Everybody 
felt  a  little  tired,  and  we  went  to  bed  early.  It  was  the 
first  night  for  eight  days  that  we  had  really  undressed 
and  bathed  and  slept,  and  it  was  such  a  refreshment 
that  I  did  not  wake  for  twelve  hours.  My  journal 


Tlbrougb  tbe  H>esert  to  jpalmpra          419 

of  the  following  morning  contains  a  very  short  notice. 
We  were  considerably  refreshed,  and  attended  to  our 
horses  and  several  camp  wants.  We  lounged  about  till 
breakfast  and  wrote  our  diaries.  It  was  scorchingly 
hot  weather.  We  were  here  for  five  days,  so  we  did 
not  begin  serious  work  until  noon. 

So  many  travellers  have  described  Palmyra  that  it  is 
not  necessary  for  me  to  describe  it  again,  and  I  suppose 
that  everybody  knows  that  at  one  time  it  was  ruled  over 
in  the  days  of  its  splendour  by  Zenobia,  a  great  queen 
of  the  East.  She  was  an  extraordinary  woman,  full 
of  wisdom  and  heroic  courage.  She  was  conquered  by 
the  Romans  after  a  splendid  reign,  and  the  Emperor 
Aurelian  caused  her  to  be  led  through  Rome  bound 
in  fetters  of  gold.  The  city  must  once  have  been 
magnificent,  but  it  was  now  a  ruin.  The  chief  temple 
was  that  of  the  Sun.  The  whole  city  was  full  of 
columns  and  ruined  colonnades.  One  of  the  great 
colonnades  is  a  mile  long. 

I  saw  something  of  the  inner  life  of  Palmyra,  the 
more  so  because  I  wore  a  dress  very  much  like  that  of 
a  man.  So  attired  I  could  go  almost  where  I  liked,  and 
enter  all  the  places  which  women  are  not  deemed  worthy 
to  see.  My  chief  difficulty  was  that  my  toilet  always 
had  to  be  performed  in  the  dead  of  night.  The  others 
never  appeared  to  make  any,  except  in  the  stream,  which 
was  too  public  for  me,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  appear 
singular. 

In  another  way  my  masculine  garment  had  its  draw- 
backs, for  I  always  used  to  forget  that  they  regarded 
me  as  a  boy,  and  I  never  could  remember  not  to  go  into 


420       Ube  TRomance  of  Ssabel  Xaog  Burton 

the  harims.  Once  or  twice  I  went  into  them,  and 
the  women  ran  away  to  hide  themselves  screaming 
and  laughing  at  my  appearance  ;  and  I  remember  once 
or  twice,  on  being  remonstrated  with,  pointing  to  my 
chin  to  plead  my  youth,  and  also  my  ignorance  of  their 
customs.  I  passed  at  Palmyra  as  Richard's  son  ;  and 
though  it  was  a  little  awkward  at  first,  I  soon  fell  into 
my  part,  and  remembered  always  to  be  very  respectful 
to  my  father,  and  very  silent  before  him  and  the  ciders. 
Often  in  my  character  of  boy  I  used  to  run  and  hold 
Richard's  stirrup  as  he  alighted  from  his  horse,  and  sat 
on  the  edge  of  the  divan  while  he  talked  to  the  Shaykhs 
of  Palmyra.  I  always  tried  to  adapt  myself  as  far  as 
possible  to  the  customs  of  the  country  where  I  found 
myself,  and  I  think  I  may  say  without  flattery  that  I 
had  a  good  many  capabilities  for  being  a  traveller's 
wife.  I  could  ride,  walk,  swim,  shoot,  and  defend 
myself  if  attacked,  so  that  I  was  not  dependent  on  my 
husband  ;  and  I  could  also  make  myself  generally  use- 
ful— that  is  to  say,  I  could  make  the  bed,  arrange  the 
tent,  cook  the  dinner,  if  necessary  wash  the  clothes  by 
the  river-side,  and  mend  them  and  spread  them  to 
dry,  nurse  the  sick,  bind  and  dress  wounds,  pick  up  a 
smattering  of  the  language,  make  the  camp  of  natives 
respect  and  obey  me,  groom  my  own  horse,  saddle 
him,  learn  to  wade  him  through  the  rivers,  sleep  on 
the  ground  with  the  saddle  for  a  pillow,  and  generally 
to  rough  it  and  do  without  comforts. 

We  spent  five  days  at  Palmyra.  The  first  was  de- 
voted to  a  general  inspection  of  the  place.  The  second, 
we  visited  the  Temple  of  the  Sun  and  the  Towers  of 


421 

the  Tombs.  These  latter  are  tall  square  towers,  four 
storeys  in  height  ;  and  each  tower  contains  apertures  for 
bodies  like  a  honeycomb.  I  noticed  that  all  the  carving 
was  of  the  rudest  and  coarsest  kind.  There  was  no 
trace  of  civilization  anywhere,  no  theatre,  no  forum, 
nothing  but  a  barbarous  idea  of  splendour,  worked  out 
on  a  colossal  scale  in  columns  and  temples.  The  most 
interesting  thing  was  the  Tombs.  These  were  character- 
istic of  Palmyra,  and  lined  the  wild  mountain-defile 
entrance  to  the  city,  and  were  dotted  about  on  the 
mountain-sides.  It  was  a  City  of  Tombs,  a  City  of  the 
Dead.  I  was  much  struck  too  with  the  dirtiness  of  the 
people  of  Palmyra,  which  dirtiness  results  in  pestilence, 
ophthalmia,  and  plagues  of  flies. 

The  third  day  two  officers,  the  Shaykh  of  Palmyra 
and  another,  dined  with  us  in  our  tents,  and  after 
dinner  we  strolled  about  the  ruins  by  moonlight,  and 
when  we  were  tired  we  sat  down  in  a  large  ring  on  the 
sand,  and  the  soldiers  and  muleteers  danced  a  sword- 
dance  with  wild  cries  to  musical  accompaniments  and 
weird  songs.  I  shall  never  forget  the  exceeding  beauty 
of  the  ruins  of  Palmyra  by  moonlight.  The  following 
day  we  explored  the  caves,  and  found  human  bones  and 
things,  which  I  helped  Richard  to  sort,  much  to  the 
disgust  of  the  Vicomte  de  Perrochel,  who  was  shocked 
at  my  want  of  sensibility,  and  said  that  a  Frenchwoman 
would  certainly  have  had  hysteria.  We  also  explored 
the  ruins,  and  wrote  descriptions  of  our  journey  to 
Palmyra.  We  had  all  retired  to  rest,  when  I  was 
aroused  by  hearing  a  roaring  like  that  of  a  camel.  I 
ran  out  of  my  tent  to  see  what  was  the  matter  ;  and 


422       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

being  guided  by  a  noise  to  the  servants'  quarters,  I 
found  the  kitchen  assistant  in  convulsions,  and  the  rest 
holding  him  down.  It  was  a  Syrian  disease,  a  sort  of 
epilepsy.  They  all  wanted  to  tread  on  his  back,  but  I 
would  not  let  them  do  it.  I  got  some  hot  brandy  and 
restoratives,  and  gave  him  a  good  dosing  between  his 
clenched  teeth.  The  result  was  he  came  to  in  an  hour 
and  a  half,  sensible,  but  very  tipsy;  but  he  managed 
to  kiss  my  hand  and  thank  me.  The  last  day  was 
Easter  Sunday.  We  performed  our  Sunday  service  in 
one  of  the  ruined  temples,  we  wrote  our  journals,  and 
prepared  for  departure  on  the  morrow.  The  next  day 
we  left  Palmyra.  We  should  have  done  better  to  have 
remained  there  fifteen  days  instead  of  five.  I  wish  we 
had  taken  ropes  and  ladders,  planks  to  bridge  over 
broken  staircases,  and  a  crowbar.  We  might  then  have 
thoroughly  examined  three  places  which  we  could  not 
otherwise  do  :  the  Palace  of  the  Pretty,  the  Palace  of 
the  Maiden,  and  the  Palace  of  the  Bride,  the  three 
best  Tower  Tombs. 

We  left  camp  at  dawn,  and  a  terribly  hot  day  it  was. 
We  encamped  at  8  p.m.  in  a  mountain  defile.  We  were 
all  dead-beat,  and  so  were  the  horses.  At  night  I  had 
fever,  and  a  hurricane  of  wind  and  rain  nearly  carried 
our  tents  away.  On  the  second  day  we  rode  from 
dawn  to  sunset,  with  the  driving  wind  and  the  sand  in 
our  faces,  filling  eyes,  ears,  nose,  and  mouth.  I  felt  so 
cold,  tired,  and  disheartened,  that  as  I  sat  in  my  saddle 
and  rode  along  I  cried  for  about  two  hours,  and 
Richard  and  the  others  laughed  at  me.  Whilst  I  was 
crying  we  saw  a  body  of  mounted  Bedawin  dodging 


tbe  2>esert  to  jpalmpra          4*3 

about  in  the  mountains.  So  I  dried  my  eyes,  and  rode 
on  as  hard  as  I  could  pelt  until  we  reached  Karyatayn 
at  sunset;  but  I  had  to  be  lifted  off  my  horse,  and 
could  not  stand  for  some  minutes. 

All  clamoured  to  rest  one  day  at  Karyatayn.  We 
had  already  been  riding  for  two  days  hard,  and  were 
simply  done  up.  The  muleteers  mutinied,  and  said 
that  their  backs  were  broken  and  their  beasts  dead- 
beat.  There  was  only  one  person  in  the  camp  not 
tired,  and  that  was  Richard,  who  seemed  made  of 
cast  iron.  He  said,  "You  may  all  remain  here,  but 
I  shall  ride  on  to  Damascus  alone,  for  on  Friday  the 
English  and  Baghdad  mails  come  in,  and  I  must  be  at 
my  post."  All  the  responsibility  then  fell  upon  me, 
for  they  all  said  if  I  would  remain  they  would  be  glad. 
But  the  idea  of  Richard  riding  on  alone  through  the 
desert  infested  with  Bedawin  was  not  to  be  entertained 
by  me  tor  one  moment,  so  I  said,  "  On  we  go." 

The  next  morning  we  left  early.  I  tried  at  first  to 
ride  in  the  panniers  of  one  of  the  camels;  but  it  bumped 
me  so  unmercifully  that  after  half  an  hour  I  begged  to 
be  let  down.  Camel-riding  is  pleasant  if  it  is  at  a  long 
trot ;  but  a  slow  walk  is  very  tedious,  and  I  should 
think  that  a  gallop  would  be  annihilation.  When  I 
got  down  from  my  camel,  I  mounted  my  horse,  and 
galloped  after  the  rest,  and  in  time  got  to  my  place 
behind  Richard.  I  always  rode  a  yard  or  two  behind 
him.  In  the  East  it  would  not  have  been  considered 
respectful  for  either  wife  or  son  to  ride  beside  a 
husband.  We  got  to  Jayrud  at  dark,  and  we  saw 
hovering  near  us  a  party  of  Bedawin,  armed  and 


424       Ube  "(Romance  ot  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

mounted  ;  they  eventually  retired  into  the  mountains. 
But  when  we  got  back  to  Damascus,  we  heard  that  all 
through  our  journey  the  bandits  had  been  watching 
us,  and  would  have  attacked  us,  only  they  were  afraid 
that  our  rifles  would  carry  too  far. 

The  next  day  was  the  last.  We  started  at  sunrise, 
and  rode  all  day,  reaching  home  at  8  p.m.  I  had  not 
realized  the  beauty  of  Damascus  until  then.  After 
all  those  days  in  the  desert  it  seemed  a  veritable 
garden  of  Paradise.  First  of  all  we  saw  a  belt  of 
something  dark  lining  the  horizon  ;  then  we  entered 
by  degrees  under  the  trees,  the  orchards,  and  the 
gardens.  We  smelt  the  water  from  afar  like  a  thirsty 
horse  ;  we  heard  its  gurgling  long  before  we  came  to 
it ;  we  scented  and  saw  the  limes,  citrons,  and  water- 
melons. We  felt  a  mad  desire  to  jump  into  the  water, 
to  eat  our  fill  of  fruit,  to  lie  down  and  sleep  under  the 
delicious  shade.  At  last  we  reached  our  door.  The 
house  seemed  to  me  like  a  palace  of  comfort.  A  warm 
welcome  greeted  us  on  all  sides  ;  and  as  every  one 
(except  Richard)  and  all  the  horses  were  dead-beat, 
they  all  stayed  with  us  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

BLUDAN  IN  THE  ANTI-LEBANON 
(1870) 

Come,  my  beloved,  let  us  go  forth  into  the  field ;  let  us  lodge  in  the 
villages. 

Let  us  get  up  early  to  the  vineyards ;  let  us  see  if  the  vine  flourish, 
whether  the  tender  grape  appear,  and  the  pomegranates  bud  forth  :  there 
will  I  give  thee  my  loves. 

The  mandrakes  give  a  smell,  and  at  our  gates  are  all  manner  of  pleasant 
fruits,  new  and  old,  which  I  have  laid  up  for  thee,  O  my  beloved. 

The  Song  of  Solomon. 

DURING  the  next  few  weeks  at  Damascus  there 
was  an  outbreak  of  cholera,  which  gave  me  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  at  the  time.  Several  people  died  in 
great  agony,  and  I  did  what  I  could  to  check  the  out- 
break. I  made  the  peasants  wash  and  fumigate  their 
houses  and  burn  the  bedding,  and  send  to  me  for 
medicine  the  moment  a  person  was  taken  ill.  Fortu- 
nately these  precautions  checked  the  spread  of  the 
disease  ;  but  along  the  cottages  at  the  river-side  there 
was  also  an  epidemic  of  scarlet  fever  more  difficult  to 
keep  within  bounds.  I  secured  the  services  of  a  kind- 
hearted  French  surgeon,  who  attended  the  patients,  and 
I  myself  nursed  them.  I  wore  an  outside  woollen 

dress  when  attending  cases,  and  this  I  hung  on  a  tree 

425 


426      ttbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JSurton 

in  the  garden,  and  never  let  it  enter  my  house.  I 
also  took  a  bag  of  camphor  with  me  to  prevent  in- 
fection. However,  after  a  time  I  was  struck  down 
by  one  of  those  virulent,  nameless  illnesses  peculiar  to 
Damascus,  which,  if  neglected,  end  in  death,  and  I 
could  not  move  without  fainting.  An  instinct  warned 
me  to  have  a  change  of  air,  and  I  determined  to  go  to 
Beyrout.  Two  hours  out  of  Damascus  I  was  able 
to  rise,  and  at  the  half-way  house  at  Buka'a  I  could 
eat,  and  when  I  arrived  at  Beyrout  after  fourteen 
hours'  journey  I  felt  almost  well.  I  had  three  weeks' 
delicious  sea-bathing  at  Beyrout ;  and  while  there  we 
kept  Her  Majesty's  birthday  at  the  Consulate-General 
with  great  pomp  and  ceremony.  We  also  made 
several  little  expeditions.  Richard  went  farther  afield 
than  I  did,  to  Tyre,  Sidon,  Carmel,  and  Juneh.  I  was 
too  weak  to  go  with  him,  which  I  regretted  very  much, 
as  I  would  have  given  a  great  deal  to  have  visited  the 
grave  of  Lady  Hester  Stanhope. 

On  June  14  we  turned  our  faces  homewards  to 
Damascus,  and  as  we  journeyed  over  the  Lebanons 
and  descended  into  the  plain  I  could  not  help 
feeling  the  oriental  charm  of  the  scene  grow  upon 
me.  Beyrout  is  demi-fashionable,  semi-European  ;  but 
Damascus  is  the  heart  of  the  East,  and  there  is  no 
taint  of  Europeanism  about  it.  As  I  was  nearing 
Damascus  in  the  evening  I  fell  in  love  with  it.  The 
first  few  weeks  I  had  disliked  it,  but  gradually  it  had 
grown  upon  me,  and  now  it  took  a  place  in  my  heart 
from  which  it  could  never  be  thrust  forth.  I  saw  how 
lovely  it  was,  bathed  in  the  evening  sun,  and  it  seemed 


Blufcan  in  tbe  Hnti*Xebanon  427 

to  me  like  home — the  home  that  I  had  dreamed  of  in 
my  childhood  long  ago.  I  cannot  tell  what  worked 
this  charm  in  me  ;  but  henceforth  my  affections  and 
interests,  my  life  and  work,  knitted  and  grew  to  that 
Damascus  home  of  ours,  where  I  would  willingly  have 
remained  all  my  days.  I  knew  that  mine  was  to  be 
the  wanderer's  life,  and  that  it  is  fatal  for  the  wanderer 
to  make  ties  and  get  attached  to  places  or  things  or 
people ;  but  in  spite  of  this  presentiment,  I  greedily 
drank  in  whilst  I  could  all  the  truths  which  the 
desert  breathes,  and  learnt  all  I  could  of  oriental 
mysteries,  and  set  my  hands  to  do  all  the  good  work 
they  could  find,  until  they  were  full  to  overflowing. 

Ten  days  after  our  return  to  Salahiyyeh  we  had  a 
severe  shock  of  earthquake.  Richard  and  I  were 
sitting  in  an  inner  room,  when  suddenly  the  divan 
began  to  see-saw  under  us,  and  the  wardrobe  opposite 
to  bow  down  to  us.  Fortunately  no  harm  was  done  5 
but  it  was  an  unpleasant  sensation,  like  being  at  sea  in 
a  gale  of  wind. 

As  Damascus  began  to  be  very  hot  about  this  time, 
we  moved  to  our  summer  quarters  at  Bludan,  about 
twenty- seven  miles  across  country  from  Damascus  in 
the  Anti-Lebanon.  It  was  a  most  beautiful  spot,  right 
up  in  the  mountains,  and  comparatively  cool.  We 
threaded  the  alleys  of  Bludan,  ascended  steep  places, 
and  soon  found  ourselves  beyond  the  village,  opposite  a 
door  which  opened  into  a  garden  cultivated  in  ridges 
up  the  mountain.  In  the  middle  stood  a  large  barn- 
like  limestone  hall,  with  a  covered  Dutch  verandah, 
from  which  there  was  a  splendid  view.  This  was  our 


428       zrbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 

summer-house  ;    it  had  been  built  by  a  former  consul 
Everybody   who    came    to    see    us    said,  u  Well,   it  is 
glorious ;    but  the  thing  is   to  get   here."     It  was  a 
veritable  eagle's  nest. 

We  soon  settled  down  and  made  ourselves  com- 
fortable. The  large  room  was  in  the  middle  of  the 
house,  looking  on  to  the  verandah,  which  overhung 
the  glorious  view.  We  surrounded  it  with  low  divans, 
and  the  walls  became  an  armoury  of  weapons.  The 
rooms  on  either  side  of  this  large  room  were  turned 
into  a  study  for  Richard,  a  sleeping-room,  and  a  study 
and  dressing-room  for  me.  We  had  stabling  for  eight 
horses.  There  were  no  windows  in  the  house,  only 
wooden  shutters  to  close  at  night.  The  utter  solitude 
and  the  wildness  of  the  life  made  it  very  soothing  and 
restful. 

One  of  my  earliest  experiences  there  was  a  deputation 
from  the  shaykhs  and  chiefs  of  the  villages  round,  who 
brought  me  a  present  of  a  sheep,  a  most  acceptable 
present.  Often  when  alone  at  Bludan  provisions  ran 
short.  I  remember  once  sending  my  servants  to  forage 
for  food,  and  they  returned  with  an  oath,  saying  there 
was  nothing  but  "  Arab's  head  and  onions."  I  don't 
know  about  the  Arab's  head,  but  there  was  no  doubt 
about  the  onions.  I  often  used  to  dine  off  a  big 
raw  onion  and  an  oatmeal  cake,  nothing  better  being 
forthcoming. 

In  many  ways  our  days  at  Bludan  were  the  perfection 
of  living.  We  used  to  wake  at  dawn,  make  a  cup  of 
tea,  and  then  sally  forth  accompanied  by  the  dogs,  and 
take  long  walks  over  t1  :ns  with  our  guns  in 


33lu£>an  in  tbe  Bnti^Xebanon  429 

search  of  sport.  The  larger  game  were  bears,  gazelles, 
wolves,  wild  boars,  and  a  small  leopard.  The  small  game 
nearer  home  were  partridges,  quail,  and  woodcock,  with 
which  we  replenished  our  larder.  I  am  fond  of  sport ; 
and,  though  I  say  it,  I  was  not  a  bad  shot  in  those 
days.  The  hotter  part  of  the  day  we  spent  indoors 
reading,  writing,  and  studying  Arabic.  At  twelve  we 
had  our  first  meal,  which  served  as  breakfast  and 
luncheon,  on  the  terrace.  Sometimes  in  the  afternoon 
native  shaykhs  or  people  from  Beyrout  and  Damascus 
would  come  and  visit  us.  When  the  sun  became 
cooler,  all  the  sick  and  poor  within  fifteen  or  sixteen 
miles  round  would  come  to  be  doctored  and  tended. 
The  hungry,  the  thirsty,  the  ragged,  the  sick,  and  the 
sore  filled  our  garden,  and  I  used  to  make  it  my  duty 
and  pleasure  to  be  of  some  little  use  to  them.  I  seldom 
had  fewer  than  fifteen  patients  a  day,  half  of  them  with 
eye  diseases,  and  I  acquired  a  considerable  reputation 
as  a  doctor.  We  used  to  dine  at  seven  o'clock  on 
the  terrace.  After  dinner  divans  were  spread  on  the 
housetop,  and  we  would  watch  the  moon  lighting  up 
Hermon  whilst  the  after-dinner  pipe  was  being  smoked. 
A  pianette  from  Damascus  enabled  us  to  have  a  little 
music.  Then  I  would  assemble  the  servants,  read  the 
night  prayers  to  them,  with  a  little  bit  of  Scripture 
or  of  Thomas  a  Kempis.  The  last  thing  was  to  go 
round  the  premises  and  see  that  everything  was  right, 
and  turn  out  the  dogs  on  guard.  And  so  to  bed. 
Richard  used  to  ride  down  into  Damascus  every  few 
days  to  see  that  all  was  going  well ;  so  I  was  often 
left  alone. 


430       TIbe  TRomance  ot  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

I  must  not  linger  too  long  over  our  life  at  Bludan. 
Mr.  E.  H.  Palmer,  afterwards  Professor  of  Arabic  at 
Cambridge,  and  Mr.  Charles  Tyrwhitt-Drake,  who  had 
done  much  good  work  in  connexion  with  the  Palestine 
Exploration,  came  to  us  about  this  time  on  a  visit,  and 
we  made  many  excursions  from  Bludan  with  them,  some 
short  and  some  long.  We  used  to  saunter  or  gypsy 
about  the  country  round,  pitching  our  tents  at  night. 
I  kept  little  reckoning  of  time  during  these  excursions. 
We  generally  counted  by  the  sun.  I  only  know  that 
we  used  to  start  at  dawn,  and  with  the  exception  of  a 
short  halt  we  would  ride  until  sunset,  and  often  until 
dusk,  and  sleep  in  the  desert. 

One  of  our  most  interesting  excursions  was  to 
Ba'albak,  which  is  far  more  beautiful,  though  smaller, 
than  Palmyra ;  and  it  can  be  seen  without  danger — 
Palmyra  cannot.  The  ruins  are  very  beautiful.  The 
village  hangs  on  to  the  tail  of  the  ruins — not  a  bad 
village  either,  but  by  comparison  it  looks  like  a  tatter 
clinging  to  an  empress's  diamond-bespangled  train. 
The  scenery  around  is  wild,  rocky,  and  barren. 

When  we  arrived  at  Ba'albak,  the  Governor  and  the 
chief  people  rode  out  to  receive  us.  Our  horses'  hoofs 
soon  rang  under  a  ruined  battlement,  and  we  entered  in 
state  through  the  dark  tunnels.  Horses  were  neighing, 
sabres  were  clanking  ;  it  was  a  noisy,  confusing,  pic- 
turesque scene.  We  tented  for  the  night  in  the  midst 
of  the  grand  court  of  the  ruins.  In  the  morning  the 
ladies  of  the  Governor's  harim  paid  me  a  visit  in  my 
tent,  With  their  blue  satin  and  diamonds,  they  were 
the  most  elaborately  dressed  women  I  had  seen  for 


JBlufcan  in  tbe  Hnti=£ebanon  431 

a  long  time.  We  stayed  at  Ba'albak  several  days, 
and  explored  the  ruins  thoroughly.  It  is  the  ancient 
Heliopolis.  One  of  the  most  striking  things  amid  its 
rocky  tombs  and  sepulchral  caves  and  its  Doric  columns 
and  temples  was  the  grand  old  eagle,  the  emblem  of 
Baal.  On  Sunday  I  heard  Mass  at  the  Maronite  chapel, 
and  returned  the  call  of  the  ladies  aforesaid.  In  the 
evening  we  dined  with  the  Governor,  who  illuminated 
his  house  for  us.  We  passed  a  most  enjoyable  evening. 
I  spent  most  of  the  time  in  the  harim  with  the  ladies. 
They  wished  me  to  tell  them  a  story ;  but  as  I  could 
not  recite  one  fluently  in  Arabic,  the  Governor  allowed 
me  as  a  special  favour  to  blindfold  our  dragoman,  and 
take  him  into  the  harim  as  an  interpreter,  the  Governor 
himself  being  present  the  whole  time  to  see  that  the 
bandage  did  not  come  off.  One  night  Mr.  Drake  and 
I  lit  up  the  ruins  with  magnesium.  The  effect  was 
very  beautiful.  It  was  like  a  gigantic  transformation 
scene  in  a  desert  plain.  Every  night  the  jackals  played 
round  our  tents  in  the  moonlight,  and  made  the  ruins 
weird  with  strange  sights  and  sounds. 

We  left  Ba'albak  at  dawn  one  morning,  and  rode  to 
the  source  of  the  Lebweh.  The  water  bursts  out  from 
the  ground,  and  divides  into  a  dozen  sparkling  streams. 
Of  all  the  fountains  I  have  ever  seen,  there  is  not  one 
so  like  liquid  diamonds  as  this.  We  picketed  our 
horses  under  a  big  tree,  and  slept  for  a  while  through 
the  heat  of  the  day.  At  4.30  p.m.,  when  it  was  cooler, 
we  rode  on  again  to  Er  Ras.  When  we  arrived  we 
met  with  a  furious,  rising  wind.  We  stopped  there  for 
the  night,  and  the  next  morning  galloped  across  the 


432      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcg  JBurton 

plain  to  Buka'a.  We  had  a  long,  tiring  ride,  finally 
reaching  a  clump  of  trees  on  a  height,  where  we  pitched 
our  camp.  The  Maronite  chiefs  were  jer'iding  in  the 
hollow.  They  came  to  dinner  with  us,  and  I  gave 
them  a  present  of  some  cartridges,  which  appeared  to 
make  them  very  happy. 

The  next  day  we  continued  to  ride  up  a  steep  ascent. 
At  last  we  stood  upon  a  mountain-range  of  crescent 
form,  ourselves  in  the  centre,  and  the  two  cusps  to  the 
sea.  Turning  to  the  side  which  we  had  ascended  and 
looking  below,  the  horizon  was  bounded  by  the  Anti- 
Lebanon,  with  the  plain  of  Buka'a  and  the  ruins  of 
Ba'albak  beneath  and  far  away.  From  this  point  we 
could  see  the  principal  heights  of  the  Lebanon,  for 
which  we  were  bound,  to  make  excursions  from  the 
Cedars.  We  had  a  painful  descent  for  an  hour  and  a 
half,  when  we  reached  the  famous  Cedars  of  Lebanon, 
and  camped  beneath  them.  We  pitched  our  tents 
among  the  Cedars,  under  the  largest  trees.  They  are 
scattered  over  seven  mounds  in  the  form  of  a  cross. 
There  are  five  hundred  and  fifty-five  trees,  and  they 
exude  the  sweetest  odours.  We  spent  a  very  pleasant 
time  camping  under  their  grateful  shade. 

At  last  the  day  came  for  our  party  to  break  up, 
Mr.  Palmer  and  Mr.  Tyrwhitt-Drake  en  route  for 
England,  and  Richard  and  I  to  return  to  Bludan.  So 
we  parted. 

It  took  Richard  and  myself  many  days  to  get  back 
to  our  home.  After  parting  with  our  friends,  we  re- 
solved to  visit  the  Patriarch,  Primate  of  Antioch  and 
of  all  the  East ;  and  escorted  by  a  priest  and  the  shaykh 


3BiuOan  in  tbe  Bnti*Xebanon  433 

we  travelled  by  way  of  a  short  cut  and  terrible  descent 
of  three  hours.  It  was  no  better  than  a  goat-path. 
We  at  last  arrived  at  Diman,  the  summer  residence  of 
the  Patriarch,  a  conventual  yet  fortress-like  building  on 
an  eminence,  commanding  a  view  of  the  whole  of  his 
jurisdiction.  We  were  charmed  with  the  reception 
which  his  Beatitude  gave  us.  We  were  received  by  two 
bishops  and  endless  retainers.  The  Patriarch,  dressed 
in  purple,  sat  in  a  long,  narrow  room  like  a  covered 
terrace.  We  of  the  Faith  knelt  and  kissed  his  hands, 
and  the  others  bowed  low.  His  Beatitude  seemed 
delighted  with  Richard,  and  at  dinner  he  sat  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  with  me  on  his  right  and  Richard 
on  his  left.  We  then  went  to  see  the  chapel  and  the 
monks,  and  the  view  from  the  terrace,  where  we  had 
coffee.  His  Beatitude  gave  me  a  number  of  pious 
things,  amongst  others  a  bit  of  the  true  Cross,  which  1 
still  wear. 

After  we  left  the  Patriarch's  we  found  a  dreadful 
road.  Our  horses  had  literally  to  jump  from  one  bit 
of  rock  to  another.  It  consisted  of  nothing  but  debris 
of  rocks.  The  horses  were  dead-beat  long  before  we 
had  done  our  day's  work,  and  we  had  to  struggle 
forward  on  foot.  Night  found  us  still  scrambling  in 
the  dark,  worn  out  with  fatigue  and  heat.  I  felt  unable 
to  go  another  step.  At  last,  about  nine  o'clock,  we 
saw  a  light,  and  we  hoped  it  was  our  camp.  We  had 
yet  some  distance  to  go,  and  when  we  reached  the  light 
we  found  a  wretched  village  of  a  few  huts.  It  was  so 
dark  that  we  could  not  find  our  way  into  the  shedlike 
dwellings.  We  had  lost  our  camp  altogether.  At  last, 

28 


434       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  burton 

by  dint  of  shouting,  some  men  came  out  with  a  torch, 
and  welcomed  us.  Tired  as  I  was,  I  saw  all  the  horses 
groomed,  fed,  watered,  and  tethered  in  a  sheltered 
spot  for  the  night.  We  were  then  able  to  eat  a  water- 
melon, and  were  soon  sound  asleep  on  our  saddle-cloths 
in  the  open. 

The  next  day's  ride  was  as  bad.  The  scenery,  how- 
ever, was  very  wild  and  beautiful.  We  breakfasted 
at  the  place  we  ought  to  have  arrived  at  the  previous 
night,  and  then  we  resumed  our  second  bad  day  in  the 
Kasrawan,  the  worst  desert  of  Syria.  The  horses  were 
tired  of  jumping  from  ledge  to  ledge.  We  passed 
some  Arab  tents,  and  camped  for  the  night. 

The  following  morning  we  rode  to  the  top  of  Jebel 
Sunnin,  one  of  the  three  highest  points  in  Syria,  and  we 
had  another  six  hours  of  the  Kasrawan,  which  is  called 
by  the  Syrians  "  The  road  of  Gehenna."  We  were 
terribly  thirsty,  and  at  last  we  found  a  little  khan,  which 
gave  us  the  best  leben  I  ever  tasted.  I  was  so  thirsty 
that  I  seemed  as  if  I  could  never  drink  enough.  I 
could  not  help  laughing  when,  after  drinking  off  my 
third  big  bowl,  the  poor  woman  of  the  khan,  in 
spite  of  Arab  courtesies,  was  obliged  to  utter  a  loud 
"  Mashallah  ! "  We  were  still  surrounded  by  amphi- 
theatre-shaped mountains,  with  the  points  to  the  Sea  of 
Sidon.  The  sunset  was  splendid,  and  the  air  was  cool 
and  pleasant.  We  debated  whether  to  camp  or  to  go 
on  ;  but  the  place  was  so  tempting  that  we  ended  by 
remaining,  and  were  repaid  by  a  charming  evening. 

The  next  day  we  rode  quietly  down  the  mountains. 
We  enjoyed  a  grand  view  and  a  pleasant  ride  but  it 


JSlufcan  in  tbe  Hnti^Xebanon  435 

was  as  steep  as  a  railway-bank  ;  and  we  came  at  last  to 
another  little  khan,  where  we  breakfasted.  The  Anti- 
Lebanon  rose  on  the  opposite  side.  Miss  Ellen  Wilson, 
who  had  a  Protestant  mission  at  Zahleh  in  this  district, 
asked  us  to  her  house,  and  we  accepted  her  hospitality 
for  the  night,  instead  of  remaining  in  our  tents.  We 
stayed  at  Miss  Wilson's  for  a  few  days  ;  and  we  visited 
and  were  visited  by  the  Governor  of  Zahleh,  the 
Bishop,  and  other  dignitaries.  Richard  was  taken  with 
fever.  I  nursed  him  all  night,  and  caught  the  com- 
plaint. We  both  suffered  horribly,  in  spite  of  every 
attention  on  the  part  of  our  friends.  Richard  soon 
shook  off  his  illness,  but  I  did  not ;  I  fancied  I  could 
not  get  well  unless  I  went  home  to  Bludan. 

So  at  sunset  on  August  II,  after  we  had  been  at 
Miss  Wilson's  rather  more  than  a  week,  our  horses  were 
made  ready.  I  was  lifted  out  of  bed  and  put  into  a 
litter.  We  wound  out  of  Zahleh,  descended  into  the 
plain,  and  began  to  cross  it.  I  was  so  sorry  for  the 
men  who  had  to  carry  my  litter  that  I  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  ride.  I  told  my  Arab  stallion  Salim  to  be 
very  quiet.  We  went  at  foot's  pace  till  I  o'clock  a.m. 
in  bright  moonlight  across  the  plain.  Then  we  passed 
regular  defiles,  where  once  or  twice  the  horses  missed 
their  footing,  and  struck  fire  out  of  the  rocks  in  their 
struggles  to  hold  up.  At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning 
I  felt  that  I  was  going  to  drop  out  of  my  saddle,  and 
cried  for  quarter.  The  tents  were  hastily  half  pitched, 
and  we  lay  down  on  the  rugs  till  daylight.  By  that 
time  I  had  to  repair  to  my  litter  again,  but  I  felt  so 
happy  at  coming  near  home  that  I  thought  I  was  cured. 


436       Ube  "Romance  of  Ssabel  Xaog  3Burton 

As  we  neared  Bludan  I  was  carried  along  in  the  litter, 
and  I  lay  so  still  that  everybody  thought  that  my  corpse 
was  coming  home  to  be  buried.  The  news  spread  far 
and  wide,  so  I  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  my  own 
praises  and  the  people's  lamentations. 

We  had  not  long  returned  to  Bludan  before  a  great 
excitement  arose.  When  we  had  been  home  about 
a  fortnight,  on  August  26,  Richard  received  at  night 
by  a  mounted  messenger  two  letters,  one  from  Mr. 
Wright,  chief  Protestant  missionary  at  Damascus,  and 
one  from  the  chief  dragoman  at  the  British  Consulate, 
saying  that  the  Christians  at  Damascus  were  in  great 
alarm ;  most  of  them  had  fled  from  the  city,  or  were 
flying,  and  everything  pointed  to  a  wholesale  massacre. 
Only  ten  years  before  (in  1860)  there  had  been  the  most 
awful  slaughter  of  Christians  at  Damascus  ;  and  though 
it  had  been  put  down  at  last,  the  embers  of  hatred 
were  still  smouldering,  and  might  at  any  time  burst 
into  a  flame.  Now  it  seemed  there  had  been  one  or 
those  eruptions  of  ill-feeling  which  were  periodical  in 
Damascus,  resulting  from  so  many  religions,  tongues, 
and  races  being  mixed  up  together.  The  chief  hatred 
was  between  the  Moslems  and  the  Christians,  and  the 
Jews  were  fond  of  stirring  up  strife  between  them, 
because  they  reaped  the  benefit  of  the  riot  and  anarchy. 
It  appeared  that  the  slaughter  day  was  expected  on 
August  27 — on  the  morrow.  It  had  been  so  timed 
All  the  chief  authorities  were  absent  from  Damascus, 
as  well  as  the  Consuls,  and  therefore  there  would  be 
nobody  to  interfere  and  nobody  to  be  made  responsible. 
We  only  got  notice  on  the  night  before,  the  26th. 


JBlufcan  in  tbe  anttefcebanon  437 

Richard  and  I  made  our  plans  and  arrangements  in  ten 
minutes,  and  then  saddled  the  horses  and  cleaned  the 
weapons.  Richard  would  not  take  me  to  Damascus, 
however,  because,  as  he  said,  he  intended  to  protect 
Damascus,  and  he  wanted  me  to  protect  Bludan  and 
Zebedani.  The  feeling  that  I  had  something  to  do 
took  away  all  that  remained  of  my  fever.  In  the  night 
I  accompanied  Richard  down  the  mountain.  He  took 
half  the  men,  and  left  me  half.  When  we  got  into  the 
plain,  we  shook  hands  like  two  brothers,  and  parted, 
though  it  might  have  been  that  we  should  never  see 
one  another  again.  There  were  no  tears,  nor  any  dis- 
play of  affection,  for  emotion  might  have  cost  us  dear. 

Richard  rode  into  Damascus,  put  up  his  horse,  and 
got  to  business.  When  he  stated  what  he  had  heard, 
the  local  authorities  affected  to  be  surprised  ;  but  he 
said  to  them,  "I  must  telegraph  to  Constantinople 
unless  measures  are  taken  at  once."  This  had  the 
desired  effect,  and  they  said,  "  What  will  you  have 
us  do  ?  "  He  said,  "  I  would  have  you  post  a  guard 
of  soldiers  in  every  street,  and  order  a  patrol  at 
night.  Issue  an  order  that  no  Jew  or  Christian  shall 
leave  their  houses  until  all  is  quiet."  These  measures 
were  taken  at  once,  and  continued  for  three  days  ; 
not  a  drop  of  blood  was  shed,  and  the  flock  of 
frightened  Christians  who  had  fled  to  the  mountains 
began  to  come  back.  In  this  way  the  massacre  at 
Damascus  was  averted.  But  I  may  mention  that  some 
of  the  Christians  who  had  run  away  in  panic  to  Beyrout, 
as  soon  as  they  were  safe,  declared  that  there  had  been 
no  danger  whatever,  and  they  had  not  been  at  all 


438       ^be  IRomance  ot  Isabel  Xafcs  Burton 


frightened.     I  grieve  to  say  it,  but  the  Eastern  Christian 
is  often  a  poor  thing.     But  all  this  is  to  anticipate. 

When  I  had  parted  from  Richard  in  the  plain,  I 
climbed  up  to  my  eagle's  nest  at  Bludan,  the  view  from 
which  commanded  the  country,  and  I  felt  that  as  long 
as  our  ammunition  lasted  we  could  defend  ourselves, 
unless  overpowered  by  numbers.  Night  was  coming 
on,  and  of  course  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  what 
would  happen,  but  feared  the  worst.  I  knew  what 
had  happened  at  the-  previous  massacre  of  Christians 
at  Damascus  ;  and  flying,  excited  stragglers  dropped  in, 
and  from  what  they  said  one  would  have  supposed 
that  Damascus  was  already  being  deluged  in  blood, 
and  that  eventually  crowds  of  Moslems  would  surge  up 
to  Bludan  and  exterminate  us  also.  I  fully  expected 
an  attack,  so  I  collected  every,  available  weapon  and 
all  the  ammunition.  I  had  five  men  in  the  house  ;  to 
each  one  I  gave  a  gun,  a  revolver,  and  a  bowie-knife. 
I  put  one  on  the  roof  with  a  pair  of  elephant  guns 
carrying  four-ounce  balls,  and  a  man  to  each  of  the 
four  sides  of  the  house,  and  I  commanded  the  terrace 
myself.  I  planted  the  Union  Jack  on  the  flagstaff  at 
the  top  of  the  house,  and  I  turned  my  bull  terriers 
into  the  garden  to  give  notice  of  any  approach.  I 
locked  up  a  little  Syrian  girl  whom  I  had  taken  into 
my  service,  and  who  was  terribly  frightened,  in  the 
safest  room  ;  but  my  English  maid,  who  was  as  brave 
as  any  man,  I  told  off  to  supply  us  with  provisions  and 
make  herself  generally  useful.  I  then  rode  down  the 
hill  to  the  American  Mission  and  begged  them  to  come 
up  and  take  shelter  with  me,  and  then  into  the  village 


JSlufcan  tn  tbe  Hnti*%ebanon  439 

of  Bludan  to  tell  the  Christians  to  come  up  to  me  on 
the  slightest  sign  of  danger.  I  gave  the  same  message 
to  the  handful  of  Christians  at  Zebedani.  I  rode  on  to 
the  Shaykhs,  and  asked  them  how  it  would  be  if  the 
news  proved  true.  They  told  me  that  there  would  be 
a  fight,  but  they  also  said,  "  They  shall  pass  over  our 
dead  bodies  before  they  reach  you."  It  was  a  brave 
speech  and  kindly  meant ;  but  if  anything  had  happened 
I  should  have  been  to  the  fore.  I  did  not  wish  the 
Shaykhs  to  think  I  was  afraid,  or  wanted  their  pro- 
tection against  their  co-religionists. 

When  all  preparations  were  completed,  I  returned  to 
the  house,  and  we  waited  and  watched,  and  we  watched 
and  waited  for  three  days.  Nobody  came,  except  more 
flying  stragglers  with  exaggerated  news.  After  having 
made  all  my  preparations,  I  can  hardly  explain  my 
sensations,  whether  they  were  of  joy  or  of  disappoint- 
ment. The  suspense  and  inaction  were  very  trying. 
I  was  never  destined  to  do  anything  worthy  of  my 
ancestress,  Blanche  Lady  Arundell,  who  defended 
Wardour  Castle  against  the  Parliamentary  forces. 

During  the  three  days  we  were  in  suspense  a  monster 
vulture  kept  hovering  over  our  house.  The  people 
said  it  was  a  bad  omen,  and  so  I  fetched  my  little 
gun,  though  I  rather  begrudged  the  cartridge  just 
then  ;  and  when  it  was  out  of  what  they  call  reach,  I 
had  the  good  luck  to  bring  it  down.  This  gave  them 
great  comfort,  and  we  hung  the  vulture  on  the  top  of 
the  tallest  tree. 

At  last  at  midnight  on  the  third  day  a  mounted 
messenger  rode  up  with  a  letter  from  Richard,  saying 


440       ^Ibe  Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

that  all  was  well  at  Damascus,  but  that  he  would  not 
be  back  for  a  week. 

After  this  excitement  life  fell  back  into  its  normal 
course  at  Bludan,  and  the  only  variations  were  small 
excursions  and  my  doctoring.  A  •promos  of  the  latter, 
I  can  tell  some  amusing  anecdotes.  Once  a  girl  sent 
to  me  saying  she  had  broken  her  leg.  I  had  a  litter 
constructed,  hired  men,  and  went  down  to  see  her. 
When  I  came  near  the  place  where  she  was,  I  met  her 
walking.  "  How  can  you  be  walking  with  a  broken 
leg  ?  "  I  said.  She  lifted  up  her  voice  and  wept ;  she 
also  lifted  up  her  petticoat  and  showed  me  a  scratch 
on  her  knee  that  an  English  baby  would  not  have 
cried  for.  Sometimes  women  would  come  and  ask  me 
for  medicine  to  make  them  young  again,  others  wished 
me  to  improve  their  complexions,  and  many  wanted  me 
to  make  them  like  Sarai  of  old.  I  gently  reminded 
them  of  their  ages,  and  said  that  I  thought  that  at  such 
a  time  of  life  no  medicines  or  doctors  could  avail. 
"  My  age  !  "  screamed  one :  "  why,  what  age  do  you  take 
me  for  ?  "  "  Well,"  I  answered  politely,  "  perhaps  you 
might  be  sixty "  (she  looked  seventy-five).  "  I  am 
only  twenty-five,"  she  said  in  a  very  hurt  tone  of 
voice.  "  Well  then,"  I  said,  "  I  must  congratulate  you 
on  your  early  marriage,  for  your  youngest  daughter  is 
seventeen,  and  she  is  working  in  my  house.  Anyway 
it  is  really  too  late  to  work  a  miracle." 

On  another  occasion  I  received  a  very  equivocal 
compliment.  A  woman  came  to  me  and  begged  for 
medicines,  and  described  her  symptoms.  The  doctor 
was  with  me,  but  she  did  not  know  him.  He  said  in 


Blufcan  in  tbe  Hntt^Xebanon  44 1 

French,  "  Do  not  give  her  anything  but  a  little  efferves- 
cing magnesia.  I  won't  have  anything  to  do  with  her ; 
it  is  too  late,  and  risks  reputation."  I  did  as  he  bade 
me,  simply  not  to  seem  unkind.  The  next  day  she 
was  dead.  Soon  afterwards  a  young  man  of  about 
twenty  came  to  me  and  said,  "  Ya  Sitti,  will  you  give 
me  some  of  that  nice  white  bubbling  powder  for  my 
grandmother  that  you  gave  to  Umm  Saba  the  day  before 
yesterday  ?  She  is  so  old,  and  has  been  in  her  bed  these 
three  months,  and  will  neither  recover  nor  die."  "  Oh 
thou  wicked  youth  !  "  I  answered  ;  "  begone  from  my 
house !  I  did  but  give  Umm  Saba  a  powder  to  calm 
her  sickness,  for  it  was  too  late  to  save  her,  and  it  was 
the  will  of  Allah  that  she  should  die." 

T  will  here  mention  again  my  little  Syrian  maid, 
to  whom  I  had  taken  a  fancy  at  Miss  Wilson's  Mission, 
where  I  first  met  her,  and  I  took  her  into  my  service. 
She  was  a  thorough  child  of  Nature,  quite  a  little  wild 
thing,  and  it  took  me  a  long  time  to  break  her  into 
domestic  habits.  She  was  about  seventeen  years  of  age, 
just  the  time  of  life  when  a  girl  requires  careful  guiding. 
When  she  first  came  to  us,  she  used  to  say  and  do 
the  queerest  things.  Some  of  them  I  really  do  not 
think  are  suited  to  ears  polite ;  but  here  are  a  few. 

One  day,  when  we  were  sitting  at  work,  she  startled 
me  by  asking  : 

"  Lady,  why  don't  you  put  your  lip  out  so  ? " 
pouting  a  very  long  under-lip. 

«  Why,  O  Moon  ?  " 

"  Look,  my  lip  so  large.  Why,  all  the  men  love  her 
so  because  she  pout." 


442       Ube  IRomance  of  Ssabel  Xafcg  JSurton 

"  But,  O  Moon,  my  lip  is  not  made  like  yours ;  and, 
besides,  I  never  think  of  men." 

"  But  do  think,  Lady.  Look,  your  pretty  lip  all 
sucked  under." 

I  know  now  how  to  place  my  lip,  and  I  always 
remember  her  when  I  sit  at  work. 

On  another  occasion,  seeing  my  boxes  full  of  dresses 
and  pretty  trinkets,  and  noticing  that  I  wore  no 
jewellery,  and  always  dressed  in  riding-habits  and 
waterproofs  for  rough  excursions,  and  looked  after 
the  stables  instead  of  lying  on  a  divan  and  sucking 
a  narghileh,  after  the  manner  of  Eastern  women,  she 
exclaimed  : 

"  O  Lady,  Ya  Sitti,  my  happiness,  why  do  you 
not  wear  this  lovely  dress  ?  " — a  decolletee  blue  ball- 
dress,  trimmed  with  tulle  and  roses.  "  I  hate  the 
black.  When  the  Beg  will  come  and  see  his  wife  so 
darling,  he  will  be  so  jealous  and  ashamed  of  him- 
self. I  beg  of  you  keep  this  black  till  you  are  an 
old  woman,  and  instead  be  joyful  in  your  happy 
time." 

After  she  had  been  in  the  house  a  fortnight,  her 
ideas  grew  a  little  faster  ;  and  speaking  of  an  old  sedate 
lady,  and  hoping  she  would  do  something  she  wished, 
she  startled  me  by  saying,  "  If  she  do,  she  do  ;  and  if 
she  don't,  go  to  hell !  " 

The  girl  was  remarkably  pretty,  with  black  plaits 
of  hair  confined  by  a  coloured  handkerchief,  a  round 
baby  face,  large  eyes,  long  lashes,  small  nose,  and 
pouting  lips,  with  white  teeth,  of  which  she  was  very 
proud  :  a  temperament  which  was  all  sunshine  or 


JSlu&an  in  tbe  Bnti*%ebanon  443 

thunder  and  lightning  in  ten  minutes.  She  had  a  nice, 
plump  little  figure,  encased  in  a  simple,  tight-fitting 
cotton  gown,  which,  however,  showed  a  stomach  of 
size  totally  disproportionate  to  her  figure.  Seeing  this, 
I  said  gently : 

"  O  Moon,  do  wear  stays  !  When  you  get  older, 
you  will  lose  your  pretty  figure.  You  are  only  seven- 
teen, and  I  am  past  thirty,  and  yet  I  have  no  stomach. 
Do  let  me  give  you  some  stays." 

She  burst  into  a  storm  of  tears  and  indignation  at 
being  supposed  to  have  a  fault  of  person,  which  brought 
on  a  rumbling  of  the  stomach.  She  pointed  to  it, 
and  said : 

"  Hush !  do  you  hear,  Lady  ?  She  cry  because  she 
is  so  great." 

Our  kawwass  having  picked  up  a  little  bad  language 
on  board  ship  from  the  sailors,  was  in  the  habit  of 
saying  wicked  words  when  angry,  and  the  Moon 
imitated  him.  The  Moon,  on  being  told  to  do  some- 
thing one  day  by  my  English  maid,  rapped  out  a 
volley  of  fearful  oaths,  and  my  maid  fled  to  me  in 
horror.  I  was  obliged  to  speak  very  seriously  to  the 
Moon,  and  told  her  that  these  were  bad  words  used 
by  the  little  gutter-boys  in  England  when  they  had  bad 
parents  and  did  not  know  God. 

Our  dragoman,  I  regret  to  say,  once  took  liberties 
with  her.  She  complained  to  me. 

"  O  Lady,  all  the  men  want  my  lip  and  my  breast. 
Hanna  he  pulled  me,  and  I  told  him,  '  What  you 
want  ?  I  am  a  girl  of  seventeen.  I  have  to  learn  how 
I  shall  walk.  You  know  the  Arab  girl.  Not  even  my 


444      Ube  IRomance  ot  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 

brother  kiss  me  without  leave.  Wait  till  I  run  and 
tell  Ya  Sitti.' " 

This  frightened  Hanna,  a  man  like  a  little  old 
walnut,  with  a  wife  and  children,  and  he  begged  her 
not  to  do  so.  But  she  came  and  told  me,  and  I 
replied  : 

"  O  Moon,  the  next  time  he  does  it,  slap  his  face 
and  scream,  and  I  will  come  down  and  ask  him  what 
he  takes  my  house  to  be.  He  shall  get  more  than  he 
reckons  on.'* 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  ill-feeling  simmering 
between  the  Moslems  and  Christians  all  this  summer, 
and  there  were  many  squabbles  between  them.  Some- 
times the  Christians  were  to  blame,  and  needlessly 
offended  the  susceptibilities  of  the  Moslems.  I  was 
always  very  careful  about  this,  and  would  not  eat  pig 
for  fear  of  offending  the  Moslems  and  Jews,  though  we 
were  often  short  of  meat,  and  I  hungered  for  a  good 
rasher  of  bacon.  I  used  to  ride  down  to  Zebedani,  the 
next  village  to  Bludan,  to  hear  Mass,  attended  by  only 
one  servant,  a  boy  of  twenty.  The  people  loved  me, 
and  my  chief  difficulty  was  to  pass  through  the  crowd 
that  came  to  kiss  my  hand  or  my  habit,  so  I  might 
really  have  gone  alone.  I  would  not  mention  this  but 
that  our  enemies  misreported  the  facts  home,  and  it 
went  forth  to  the  world  that  I  behaved  like  a  female 
tyrant,  and  flogged  and  shot  the  people.  How  this 
rumour  arose  I  know  not,  for  I  never  shot  anybody, 
and  the  only  time  I  flogged  a  man  was  as  follows.  I 
do  not  repent  of  it,  and  under  similar  circumstances 
should  do  the  same  over  again. 


JSlu&a'n  in  tbe  Hntf*Xebanon  445 

One  day  I  was  riding  alone  through  the  village  of 
Zebedani  ;  as  usual  every  one  rose  up  and  saluted  me, 
and  I  was  joined  by  several  native  Christians.  Sud- 
denly Hasan,  a  youth  of  about  twenty-two,  thrust 
himself  before  my  horse,  and  said,  "  What  fellows  you 
fellahin  are  to  salute  this  Christian  woman  !  I  will 
show  you  the  way  to  treat  her."  This  was  an  insult. 
I  reined  in  my  horse  ;  the  natives  dropped  on  their 
knees,  praying  me  not  to  be  angry,  and  kissed  my 
hands,  which  meant,  "  For  Allah's  sake  bear  it  patiently ! 
We  are  not  strong  enough  to  fight  for  you."  By 
this  time  quite  a  crowd  had  collected,  and  I  was  the 
centre  of  all  eyes.  "What  is  the  meaning  of  this?" 
I  asked  Hasan.  "  It  means,"  he  answered,  "  that  I 
want  to  raise  the  devil  to-day,  and  I  will  pull  you  off 
your  horse  and  duck  you  in  the  water.  I  am  a  Beg, 
and  you  are  a  Beg.  Salute  me !  "  Salute  him  indeed  ! 
I  did  salute  him,  but  hardly  in  the  way  he  bargained 
for.  I  had  only  an  instant  to  think  over  what  I  could 
do.  I  knew  that  to  give  him  the  slightest  advantage 
over  me  would  be  to  bring  on  a  Consular  and  European 
row,  and  a  Christian  row  too,  and  that  if  I  evinced  the 
smallest  cowardice  I  should  never  be  able  to  show 
my  face  in  the  village  again.  I  had  a  strong  English 
hunting-whip,  and  was  wearing  a  short  riding-habit. 
So  I  sprang  nimbly  from  my  saddle,  and  seized  him 
by  the  throat,  twisting  his  necktie  tightly,  and  at  the 
same  time  showering  blows  upon  his  head,  face,  and 
shoulders  with  the  butt-end  of  my  whip  till  he  howled 
for  mercy.  My  servant,  who  was  a  little  way  behind, 
heard  the  noise  at  this  moment,  and,  seeing  how  I  was 


446       ttbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

engaged,  thought  that  I  was  attacked,  and  flew  to  the 
rescue.  Six  men  flung  themselves  upon  him,  and  during 
the  struggle  his  pistol  or  blunderbuss  went  off,  and  the 
ball  whizzed  past  our  heads  to  lodge  in  the  plaster 
wall.  It  might  have  shot  me  as  well  as  Hasan,  though 
afterwards  this  fact  was  used  against  me.  The  native 
Christians  all  threw  themselves  on  the  ground,  as  they 
often  do  when  there  is  any  shooting.  The  brother  of 
Hasan  then  dragged  him  howling  away  from  me.  I 
mounted  my  horse  again,  and  rode  on  amid  the  curses 
of  his  brothers.  "  We  will  follow  you,"  they  shouted, 
<c  with  sticks  and  stones  and  guns,  and  at  night  we 
will  come  in  a  party  and  burn  your  house,  and 
whenever  we  meet  an  English  son  of  a  pig  we  will 
kill  him."  "Thank  you  for  your  wanting,"  I  said; 
"you  may  be  quite  sure  I  shall  be  ready  for  you." 
I  went  home  and  waited  to  see  if  any  apology 
would  be  offered,  but  none  came.  The  Shaykhs  came 
up,  and  the  Christians  told  me  if  I  allowed  this 
insult  to  pass  in  silence  they  would  be  unable  to  stay 
in  the  village,  they  were  too  few.  I  waited,  however, 
some  time,  and  then  wrote  an  account  of  the  affair 
and  sent  it  to  Damascus  to  the  Wali.  The  Wali, 
who  at  that  time  was  not  ill-disposed  towards  Richard, 
behaved  like  a  gentleman.  He  expressed  regret  at 
the  incident,  and  sent  soldiers  up  to  burn  and  sack 
the  home  of  Hasan  and  his  family,  but  I  interceded 
and  got  them  off  with  only  a  few  weeks'  imprison- 
ment. The  father  of  the  youth  Hasan,  accompanied 
by  about  fifty  of  the  principal  people,  came  up  to 
beg  my  pardon  the  morning  after  the  insult.  I, 


JSluoan  in  tbe  antt*Xebanon  447 

however,  received  them  coldly,  and  merely  said  the 
affair  had  passed  out  of  my  hands.  But  I  begged  them 
off  all  the  same. 

There  was  a  sequel  to  this  story,  which  I  may  as  well 
mention  here.  The  following  summer,  when  we  were 
at  Bludan,  Hasan  and  I  became  great  friends.  One  day, 
after  doctoring  him  for  weak  eyes,  I  said,  "  What  made 
you  want  to  hurt  me,  O  Hasan,  last  summer?  "  He 
replied,  u  I  don't  know  ;  the  devil  entered  my  heart. 
I  was  jealous  to  see  you  always  with  the  Shaykhs  and 
never  noticing  us.  But  since  I  have  got  to  know  you 
I  could  kill  myself  for  it."  He  had  an  excellent  heart, 
but  was  apt  to  be  carried  off  his  head  by  the  troubles 
of  the  times.  I  may  mention  that  I  reported  the 
matter  to  the  Consul-General,  who  had  also  received 
the  story  in  another  form  ;  to  wit,  that  I  had  seen 
a  poor  Arab  beggar  sitting  at  my  gate,  and  because  he 
did  not  rise  and  salute  me  I  had  drawn  a  revolver 
and  shot  him  dead.  This  is  a  specimen  of  Turkish 
falsehood. 


CHAPTER   XV 

GATHERING  CLOUDS 
(1870—1871) 

One  who  never  turned  his  back,  but  marched  breast  forward; 

Never  doubted  clouds  would  break ; 

Never  dreamed,  though  right  were  worsted,  wrong  would  triumph 
Held,  we  fall  to  rise  again ;  are  baffled,  to  fight  better; 
Sleep,  to  wake  I 

BROWNING. 

IN  October  Richard  and  I  left  Bludan  to  return  to 
our  winter  quarters  at  Salahiyyeh,  Damascus.  But 
as  we  were  in  a  mood  for  excursions,  we  went  by  a 
longer  and  roundabout  route.  We  had  a  delightful 
ride  across  the  Anti-Lebanon,  and  then  we  went  by  way 
of  Shtora  across  a  mountain  called  Jebel  Baruk,  and 
then  a  long  scramble  of  six  hours  led  us  to  the  village 
of  Baruk,  a  Druze  stronghold  in  a  wild  glen  on  the 
borders  of  the  Druze  territory.  We  did  not  find  our 
tents  ;  but  it  did  not  signify,  as  we  were  among  friends 
and  allies,  who  welcomed  us.  We  went  at  once  to  the 
Shaykh's  house.  Richard  was  always  friendly  with  the 
Druzes  ;  and  as  they  played  an  important  part  in  our 
life  at  Damascus,  I  think  that  I  had  better  give  some 
description  of  them.  They  are  a  fine,  brave  people, 

very  athletic.     The  men  are  tall,  broad,   and  stalwart, 

448 


(Batbertno  Glou&s  449 

with  splendid  black  eyes,  and  limbs  of  iron.  They 
have  proud  and  dignified  manners,  and  their  language 
is  full  of  poetry.  The  women  are  faithful  wives  and 
good  mothers.  They  wear  a  long  blue  garment  and  a 
white  veil.  The  whole  face  is  hidden  except  one  eye. 
I  remember  once  asking  them  if  it  took  a  long  time  to 
decide  which  was  the  prettier  eye,  at  which  small  joke 
they  were  much  amused. 

We  remained  for  the  night  with  the  Shaykh,and  had 
breakfast  with  him  in  the  morning,  and  then  went  on 
to  Mukhtara,  which  is  the  centre  of  the  Lebanon 
Druzes.  It  was  a  most  interesting  ride  ;  and  whilst  we 
were  still  in  the  barren  plain  a  band  of  horsemen  came 
out  to  meet  us  in  rich  Druze  dress,  and  escorted  us 
through  a  deep  defile,  and  then  up  a  rocky  ascent  to 
a  Syrian  palace,  the  house  of  the  Sitt  Jumblatt,  which 
is  situated  in  olive  groves  on  the  heights.  Arrived 
at  the  house,  we  were  cordially  received  by  the  Sitt 
Jumblatt — a  woman  who  was  the  head  of  the  princely 
family  of  the  Lebanon  Druzes — with  all  the  gracious 
hospitality  of  the  East,  and  with  all  the  well-bred  ease 
of  a  European  grande  dame.  She  took  us  into  the 
reception-room,  when  water  and  scented  soap  were 
brought  in  carved  brass  ewers  and  basins,  incense  was 
waved  before  us,  and  we  were  sprinkled  with  rose- 
water,  whilst  an  embroidered  gold  canopy  was  held 
over  our  heads  to  concentrate  the  perfume.  Coffee, 
sweets,  and  sherbet  were  served,  and  then  I  was  shown 
to  a  very  luxurious  room. 

The  following  morning  we  spent  in  visiting  the 
village  schools  and  stables,  and  in  listening  to  the  Sitt's 

29 


450       ftbe  TRomance  of  3sabel  Xaog  JSurton 

grievances,  on  which  she  waxed  eloquent.  At  night  we 
had  a  great  dinner,  and  after  dinner  there  were  dancing 
and  war-songs  between  the  Druzes  of  the  Lebanon  and 
the  Druzes  of  the  Hauran.  They  also  performed 
pantomimes  and  sang  and  recited  tales  of  love  and 
war  until  far  into  the  night. 

The  next  day  we  started  early.  I  was  sorry  to 
leave,  for  the  Sitt  Jumblatt  and  I  had  formed  a  great 
friendship.  We  rode  to  B'teddin,  the  palace  of  the 
Governor  of  the  Lebanon,  where  we  were  received  with 
open  arms.  Five  hundred  soldiers  were  drawn  up  in 
a  line  to  salute  us,  and  the  Governor,  Franco  Pasha, 
welcomed  us  with  all  his  family  and  suite.  After  our 
reception  we  were  invited  to  the  divan,  where  we 
drank  coffee.  Whilst  so  engaged  invisible  bands 
struck  up  "  God  save  the  Queen  "  ;  it  was  like  an 
electric  shock  to  hear  our  national  hymn  in  that  remote 
place — we  who  had  been  so  long  in  the  silence  of  the 
Anti-Lebanon.  We  sprang  to  our  feet,  and  I  was  so 
overcome  that  I  burst  into  tears. 

In  the  morning  we  rode  back  to  Mukhtara,  where 
we  went  to  the  house  of  the  principal  Druze  Shaykh, 
and  were  most  graciously  received.  I  love  the  Druzes 
and  their  charming,  courteous  ways.  Whilst  staying 
here  we  made  several  excursions,  and  among  others  we 
ascended  Mount  Hermon.  The  Druze  chiefs  came 
from  all  parts  to  visit  us. 

After  some  days  we  left.  Richard  was  to  go  home 
by  a  way  of  his  own,  and  I  was  to  return  escorted  by 
a  Druze  Shaykh.  Poor  Jiryus,  my  sais,  walked  by  my 
side  for  a  mile  when  I  started,  and  after  kissing  my 


(Batberina  Clou&s  451 

hand  with  many  blessings,  he  threw  his  arms  round 
Salim's  neck  and  kissed  his  muzzle.  Then  he  sat 
down  on  a  rock  and  burst  into  tears.  Richard  had 
dismissed  him  for  disobeying  orders.  My  heart  ached 
for  him,  and  I  cried  too. 

Shaykh  Ahmad  and  I  descended  the  steep  mountain- 
side, and  then  galloped  over  the  plain  till  we  came  to 
water  and  some  Bedawin  feeding  their  flocks.  The 
Shaykh  gave  one  fine  fellow  a  push,  and  roughly  ordered 
him  to  hold  my  horse  and  milk  his  goats  for  me.  The 
man  refused.  "  What,"  I  said  very  gently,  "  do  you, 
a  Bedawin,  refuse  a  little  hospitality  to  a  tired  and 
thirsty  woman  ?  "  ct  O  Lady,"  he  replied  quickly,  "  I 
will  do  anything  for  you — you  speak  so  softly  ;  but 
I  won't  be  ordered  about  by  this  Druze  fellow."  I 
was  pleased  with  his  manliness,  and  he  attended  to  my 
wants  and  waited  on  me  hand  and  foot. 

We  camped  out  that  night,  and  the  night  after.  I  was 
always  fond  of  sleeping  in  the  tent,  and  would  never  go 
into  the  house  unless  compelled  to  do  so.  This  time, 
however,  our  tents  were  pitched  on  low  ground  close 
to  the  river,  with  burning  heat  by  day  and  cold  dews 
by  night.  So  I  got  the  fever,  and  I  lay  in  a  kind  of 
stupor  all  day.  The  next  morning  I  heard  a  great 
row  going  on  outside  my  tent.  It  turned  out  to  be 
the  Druze  Shaykh  and  our  dragoman  quarrelling. 
Shortly  after  Shaykh  Ahmad  came  into  my  tent,  and 
in  a  very  dignified  way  informed  me  that  he  wished  to 
be  relieved  of  his  duty  and  return  home.  I  laughed, 
and  refused  to  allow  him  to  depart.  "What,  O 
Shaykh,"  said  I,  '*  will  you  leave  a  poor,  lone  woman 


45 2       ^be  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcg  JSurton 

to  return  with  no  escort  but  a  dragoman  "  ;  and  he 
immediately  recanted. 

Richard  joined  me  here  for  a  night,  and  then  in  the 
morning  went  off  by  another  route  to  explore  some 
district  round  about.  I  also  did  some  exploring  in 
another  direction. 

So  we  went  on  from  day  to  day,  camping  about,  or 
rather  gypsying,  in  the  desert  among  the  Bedawin.  I 
got  to  love  it  very  much.  I  often  think  with  regret 
of  the  strange  scenes  which  became  a  second  nature 
to  me :  of  those  dark,  fierce  men,  in  their  gaudy, 
flowing  costumes,  lying  about  in  various  attitudes  ;  of 
our  encampments  at  night,  the  fire  or  the  moonlight 
lighting  them  up,  the  divans  and  the  pipes,  the  nar- 
ghilehs  and  coffee ;  of  their  wild,  mournful  songs  ;  of 
their  war-dances  ;  of  their  story-telling  of  love  and  war, 
which  are  the  only  themes.  I  got  to  know  the  Bedawin 
very  well  during  that  time,  both  men  and  women ;  and 
the  more  I  knew  them  the  better  I  liked  them. 

I  remember  one  night,  when  Richard  and  I  were 
in  our  tent,  we  lay  down  on  our  respective  rugs, 
and  I  put  out  the  light.  Suddenly  Richard  called 
to  me,  "  Come  quick  !  I  am  stung  by  a  scorpion." 
I  struck  a  match  and  ran  over  to  his  rug,  and  looked 
at  the  place  he  pointed  to ;  but  there  was  a  mere 
speck  of  blue,  and  I  was  convinced  it  was  only  a  big 
black  ant.  He  did  not  mind  that,  so  I  lay  down 
again.  Hardly  had  I  done  so  when  he  called  out, 
"  Quick,  quick,  again  !  I  know  it  is  a  scorpion."  I 
again  struck  a  light,  ran  over,  plunged  my  hand  in- 
side his  shirt  near  the  throat,  and  drew  it  out  again 


(Batberina  Cloufcs  453 

quickly  with  a  scorpion  hanging  by  its  crablike  claws 
to  my  finger.  I  shook  it  off  and  killed  it ;  but  it 
did  not  sting  me,  being,  I  suppose,  unable  to  manage 
a  third  time.  I  rubbed  some  strong  smelling  salts  into 
Richard's  wounds,  and  I  found  some  rakiy  which  I 
made  him  drink,  to  keep  the  poison  away  from  his 
heart.  He  then  slept,  and  in  the  morning  was  well. 

While  we  were  gypsying  about  in  this  way  we 
received  an  invitation  to  a  Druze  wedding  at  Arneh, 
near  Mount  Hermon.  Richard  went  to  it  one  way 
and  I  another.  Whenever  we  separated,  the  object  was 
to  get  information  of  both  routes  to  our  meeting-place, 
and  thus  save  time  and  learn  more.  On  meeting,  we 
used  to  join  our  notes  together. 

The  wedding  was  a  very  pretty  one.  The  bride- 
groom was  a  boy  of  fifteen  ;  and  the  bride,  a  Shaykh's 
daughter,  was  about  the  same  age.  There  was  a  great 
deal  of  singing  and  dancing,  and  they  were  all  dressed 
in  their  best  costumes  and  jewellery.  I  was  invited  to 
the  harim  of  the  bride's  house,  where  we  had  a  merry 
time  of  it.  Whilst  we  were  enjoying  our  fun  the  girls 
blew  out  all  our  lights,  and  we  were  left  in  the  dark- 
ness. The  bride  ran  and  threw  her  arms  round  me,  for 
protection  perhaps,  and  then  commenced  such  a  romping 
and  screaming  and  pinching  and  pulling  that  I  hardly 
knew  where  I  was.  It  was  evidently  considered  a 
great  frolic.  After  a  few  minutes  they  lit  the  candles 
again.  At  last  the  bride,  robed  in  an  izar  and  veiled, 
mounted  a  horse  astraddle,  and  went  round  to  pay  her 
last  visit  to  her  neighbours  as  a  maiden.  Coming  back, 
the  bride  and  the  bridegroom  met  in  the  street,  and 


454       Ube  IRomance  of  Ssabel  XaDp  SSurton 

then  we  all  adjourned  to  her  father's  house,  where 
there  were  more  ceremonies  and  festivities.  At  mid- 
night we  formed  a  procession  to  take  the  bride  to  her 
bridegroom's  house,  with  singing,  dancing,  snapping  of 
fingers,  and  loud  cries  of  "  Yallah  !  Yallah  !  "  which 
lasted  till  2  a.m.  Then  the  harim  proceeded  to  undress 
the  bride.  We  were  up  all  night,  watching  and  joining 
in  different  branches  of  festivities. 

The  wedding  over,  we  returned  home  to  Salahiyyeh 
by  slow  stages.  It  was  a  terribly  hot  road  through 
the  desert.  I  suffered  with  burning  eyeballs  and 
mouth  parched  with  a  feverish  thirst.  I  know  nothing 
to  equal  the  delight  with  which  one  returns  from  the 
burning  desert  into  cool  shades  with  bubbling  water. 
Our  house  seemed  like  a  palace  ;  and  our  welcome  was 
warm.  So  we  settled  down  again  at  Damascus. 

We  had  a  troublesome  and  unpleasant  time  during 
the  next  few  months,  owing  to  a  continuation  of  official 
rows.  There  were  people  at  Damascus  always  trying 
to  damage  us  with  the  Government  at  home,  and 
sending  lying  reports  to  the  Foreign  Office.  They 
were  most  unscrupulous.  One  man,  for  instance, 
complained  to  the  Foreign  Office  that  I  had  been  heard 
to  say  that  I  had  "  finished  my  dispatches,"  meaning 
that  I  had  finished  the  work  of  copying  Richard's. 
Imagine  a  man  noting  down  this  against  a  woman,  and 
twisting  it  the  wrong  way. 

I  think  that  the  first  shadow  on  our  happy  life 
came  in  July  of  this  year,  1870,  when  I  was  at  Bludan. 
An  amateur  missionary  came  to  Damascus  and  attempted 
to  proselytize.  Damascus  was  in  a  very  bad  temper 


(Battering  GlouDs  455 

just  then,  and  it  was  necessary  to  put  a  stop  to  these 
proceedings,  because  they  endangered  the  safety  of  the 
Christian  population.  Richard  was  obliged  to  give 
him  a  caution,  with  the  result  that  he  made  the 
missionary  an  enemy,  and  gave  him  a  grievance,  which 
was  reported  home  in  due  course. 

Another  way  in  which  we  made  enemies  was  because 
Richard  found  it  necessary  to  inform  the  Jews  that  he 
would  not  aid  and  abet  them  in  their  endeavours  to 
extort  unfair  usury  from  the  Syrians.  Some  of  the 
village  Shaykhs  and  peasantry,  ignorant  people  as  they 
were,  were  in  the  habit  of  making  ruinous  terms  with 
the  Jews,  and  the  extortion  was  something  dreadful. 
Moreover,  certain  Jewish  usurers  were  suspected  of 
exciting  massacres  between  the  Christians  and  the 
Moslems,  because,  their  lives  being  perfectly  safe, 
they  would  profit  by  the  horrors  to  buy  property 
at  a  nominal  price.  It  was  brought  to  the  notice 
of  Richard  about  this  time  that  two  Jewish  boys, 
servants  to  Jewish  masters  who  were  British- protected 
subjects,  had  given  the  well-understood  signal  by 
drawing  crosses  on  the  walls.  It  was  the  signal  of 
the  massacre  in  1860.  He  promptly  investigated 
the  matter,  and  took  away  the  British  protection  of 
the  masters  temporarily.  Certain  Israelite  money- 
lenders, who  hated  him  because  he  would  not  wink  at 
their  sweating  and  extortions,  saw  in  this  an  oppor- 
tunity to  overthrow  him  ;  so  they  reported  to  some 
leading  Jews  in  England  that  he  had  tortured  the 
boys,  \,  horn  he  had  not,  in  point  of"  fact,  punished 
in  any  -^ay  beyond  reproving  them.  The  rich 


456       ZCbe  IRomance  ot  Isabel  Xaog  3SSurton 

Jews  at  home,  therefore,  were  anxious  to  procure  our 
recall,  and  spread  it  about  that  we  were  influenced 
by  hatred  of  the  Jews.  One  of  them  had  even 
the  unfairness  to  write  to  the  Foreign  Office  as 
follows : 

"  I  hear  that  the  lady  to  whom  Captain  Burton  is 
married  is  believed  to  be  a  bigoted  Roman  Catholic, 
and  to  be  likely  to  influence  him  against  the  Jews." 

In  spite  of  woman's  rights  I  was  not  allowed  to 
answer  him  publicly.  When  I  heard  of  it,  I  could 
not  forbear  sending  a  true  statement  of  the  facts  of 
the  case  to  Lord  Granville,  together  with  the  following 
letter  : 

"H.B.M.  CONSULATE,  DAMASCUS, 
"November  29,  1870. 

"My  LORD, 

"  I  have  always  understood  that  it  is  a  rule 
amongst  gentlemen  never  to  drag  a  lady's  name  into 
public  affairs,  but  I  accept  with  pleasure  the  compli- 
ment which  Sir pays  me  in  treating  me 

like  a  man,  and  the  more  so  as  it  enables  me  to  assume 
the  privilege  of  writing  to  you  an  official  letter,  a 
copy  of  which  perhaps  you  will  cause  to  be  transmitted 
to  him. 

"  Sir has  accepted  the  tissue  of  untruths 

forwarded  by  three  persons,  the  chief  money-lenders 
of  Damascus,  because  they  are  his  co-religionists.  He 
asserts  that  I  am  a  bigoted  Roman  Catholic,  and  must 
have  influenced  my  husband  against  them.  I  am  not 

so   bigoted   as   Sir ;    for   if  three   Catholics 

were    to  do  one -half  of  what  these  three  Jews  have 


6atberfna  Cloufcs  457 

done,  I  would  never  rest  until  I  had  brought  them  to 
justice.  I  have  not  a  prejudice  in  the  world  except 
against  hypocrisy.  Perhaps,  as  Damascus  is  divided 
into  thirty-two  religions,  my  husband  and  I  are  well 
suited  to  the  place.  We  never  ask  anybody's  religion, 
nor  make  religion  our  business.  My  husband  would 
be  quite  unfitted  for  public  life  if  he  were  to  allow 
me  to  influence  him  in  the  manner  described,  and  I 
should  be  unworthy  to  be  any  good  man's  wife  if 
I  were  to  attempt  it.  My  religion  is  God's  poor. 
There  is  no  religious  war  between  us  and  the  Jews, 
but  there  is  a  refusal  to  use  the  name  of  England 
to  aid  three  rich  and  influential  Jews  in  acts  of  in- 
ustice  to,  and  persecution  of,  the  poor  ;  to  imprison 
and  let  them  die  in  gaol  in  order  to  extort  what 
they  have  not  power  to  give ;  and  to  prevent  foreign 
and  fraudulent  money  transactions  being  carried  on 
in  the  name  of  Her  Majesty's  Government.  Also 
it  has  been  necessary  once  or  twice  to  prevent  the 
Jews  exciting  the  Moslems  to  slaughter,  by  which  they 
have  never  suffered,  but  by  which  they  gratify  their 
hatred  of  the  Christians,  who  are  the  victims.  I  think 
nobody  has  more  respect  for  the  Jewish  religion  than 
my  husband  and  myself,  or  of  the  Jews,  as  the  most 
ancient  and  once  chosen  people  of  God ;  but  in  all  races 
some  must  be  faulty,  and  these  must  be  punished. 
There  are  three  mouths  from  which  issue  all  these 
complaints  and  untruths  ;  and  what  one  Jew  will  say 
or  sign  the  whole  body  will  follow  without  asking  a 
question  why  or  wherefore,  nor  in  Damascus  would 
their  consent  be  asked.  It  is  a  common  saying  here 


458       Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  burton 

that  *  everybody  says  yes  to  them  because  they  have 
money.'  These  three  men  count  on  the  influence  of 

men  like  Sir ,  and  one  or  two  others,  and 

impose  upon  their  credulity  and  religious  zeal  to  get 
their  misdeeds  backed  up  and  hidden.  But  will  such 
men  as  these  protect  a  fraudulent  usurer  because  he 
is  a  Jew  ? 

"I  enclose  a  true  statement  of  the  case,  and  also 
some  private  letters,  one  from  our  chief  and  best 
missionary,  which  will  show  you  something  of  the 
feeling  here  in  our  favour. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  be,  my  Lord, 

"Your  most  obedient  and  humble  servant, 

"ISABEL  BURTON. 

"To  the  EARL  GRANVILLE,  etc.,  etc., 

"  Secretary  of  State  for  Foreign  Affairs." 

To  this  I  can  only  add  :  if  the  Shylocks  of  Damascus 
hated  me,  so  much  the  more  to  my  credit. 

There  were  many  temptations  to  turn  us  from  the 
path  of  right,  if  we  had  a  mind  to  go.  Politics  at 
Damascus  were  most  corrupt,  and  bribes  were  freely 
offered  to  us  both  from  all  sides.  They  did  not  seem 
to  understand  our  refusal  of  anything  of  the  kind.  It 
had  evidently  been  the  custom.  Richard  had  as  much 
as  £20,000  offered  him  at  once,  and  personally  I  had 
no  end  of  temptations  to  accept  money  when  I  first 
came  to  Damascus.  If  we  had  taken  gold  and  ignored 
wrongs,  we  might  have  feathered  our  nests  for  ever, 
and  doubtless  have  retired  with  much  honour  and 
glory.  But  we  would  not.  In  this  way  I  refused 


Gatberfna  Clou&s  459 

several  Arab  horses  which  I  would  have  given  worlds 
to  accept,  for  I  was  passionately  fond  of  Arab  horses, 
and  could  not  afford  to  buy  them  ;  but  as  we  should 
have  been  expected  to  do  unjust  things  in  return, 
or  rather  to  allow  unjust  things  to  be  done,  I 
refused  them.  I  had  more  jewels  offered  me  than  I 
should  have  known  what  to  do  with,  but  refused 
them  all ;  and  I  take  some  credit  to  myself  in  this 
matter,  because  I  might  have  accepted  them  as  gifts 
without  any  conditions,  and  I  like  diamonds  as  much  as 
most  women,  or  rather  I  like  their  value. 

In  November  we  had  quite  an  event  in  Damascus — 
the  wedding  of  the  Wali's  daughter.  It  was  the 
most  splendid  wedding  I  ever  beheld.  It  lasted  five 
days  and  nights.  The  men  celebrated  it  in  one 
house,  and  the  women  in  another.  We  mustered 
several  hundred  in  all.  I  was  among  the  intimes, 
and  was  treated  en  famille.  By  my  side  throughout 
was  Lady  Ellenborough,  looking  like  an  oriental 
queen,  and  the  charming  young  wife  of  our  Italian 
Consul,  whose  dress  was  fresh  from  Italy.  The  dresses 
were  wonderful  in  richness,  diamonds  blazing  every- 
where. But  one  custom  took  my  fancy  :  the  best 
women  wore  simply  a  plain  cashmere  robe,  and  no 
ornaments,  but  loaded  all  their  jewels  on  one  or  two 
of  their  slaves,  who  followed  them,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "  If  you  want  to  see  all  my  fine  things,  look 
behind  me  ;  it  is  too  great  a  bore  to  carry  them 
myself." 

On  the  eve  of  the  wedding  there  was  a  long 
.procession  of  female  relatives,  and  we  all  sat  round 


4&>      ZTbe  IRomance  ol  5sabel  Xaog  Burton 

in  the  large  hall.  Every  woman  in  the  procession 
bore  branches  of  lights  ;  and  the  bride  was  in 
the  middle,  a  beautiful  girl  of  fifteen  or  sixteen. 
Her  magnificent  chestnut  hair  swept  in  great  tresses 
below  her  waist,  and  was  knotted  and  seeded  with 
pearls.  She  was  dressed  in  red  velvet,  and  blazed 
all  over  with  precious  stones.  Diamond  stars  were 
also  glued  to  her  cheeks,  her  chin,  and  her  fore- 
head ;  and  they  were  rather  in  the  way  of  our 
kissing  her,  for  they  scratched  our  faces.  She  was 
a  determined-looking  girl,  but  she  had  been  crying 
bitterly,  because  she  did  not  want  to  be  married.  She 
sat  on  the  divan,  and  received  our  congratulations 
sullenly,  looking  as  though  she  would  rather  scream 
and  scratch. 

On  the  marriage  morn  we  were  up  betimes.  The 
harim  had  begged  of  me  to  wear  an  English  ball-dress, 
:hat  they  might  see  what  it  was  like.  I  said,  "  I 
will  do  what  you  ask,  but  I  know  that  you  will  be 
shocked."  "  Oh  no,"  they  replied  ;  "  we  are  quite 
sure  we  shall  be  delighted."  So  I  wore  a  white  glace 
silk  skirt,  a  turquoise  blue  tunic  and  corsage,  the 
whole  affair  looped  up  and  trimmed  with  blush  roses, 
and  the  same  flowers  in  my  hair.  Thus  arrayed  I 
appeared  before  the  harim.  They  turned  me  round 
and  round,  and  often  asked  me  if  I  were  not  very  cold 
about  the  shoulders  ;  if  it  were  really  true  that  strange 
men  danced  with  us  and  put  their  arms  round  our 
waists,  and  if  we  didn't  feel  dreadfully  ashamed,  and 
if  we  really  sat  and  ate  and  drank  with  them.  I 
could  not  answer  all  thc^e  questions  over  and  over 


<Batbertit(j  Clou&s  461 

again,  so  I  said  I  would  describe  a  European  ball 
by  interpreter.  They  hailed  the  idea  with  delight.  I 
stood  up  and  delivered  as  graphic  an  account  as  I  could 
of  my  first  ball  at  Almack's,  and  they  greeted  me  at 
intervals  with  much  applause. 

The  marriage  was  a  simple  but  most  touching 
ceremony.  We  were  all  assembled  in  the  great  hall. 
The  Wali  entered,  accompanied  by  the  women  of  the 
family ;  the  bride  advanced,  weeping  bitterly,  and  knelt 
and  kissed  her  father's  feet.  The  poor  man,  with 
emotion,  raised  her  and  clasped  a  girdle  of  diamonds 
round  her  waist,  which  was  before  ungirdled  ;  it  was 
part  of  her  dower.  No  one  could  unclasp  it  but  her 
husband,  and  this  concluded  the  ceremony.  Shortly 
afterwards  the  bride  was  borne  in  procession  to  the 
bridegroom's  house,  where  she  received  the  kisses  and 
congratulations  of  all  the  women  present.  After  about 
half  an  hour  she  was  conducted  to  a  private  room  by 
a  female  relative,  and  the  bridegroom  to  the  same  room 
by  a  male  relative.  The  door  was  shut,  and  the  band 
played  a  joyous  strain.  I  asked  what  was  going  to 
happen,  and  they  told  me  that  the  bridegroom  was 
allowed  to  raise  her  veil,  to  unclasp  her  belt,  and  to 
speak  a  few  words  to  her  in  the  presence  of  their 
relatives.  This  was  the  first  time  they  had  really  seen 
one  another.  What  an  anxious  moment  for  a  Moslem 
woman ! 

Shortly  after  this  we  went  on  an  expedition  to  visit 
the  Wuld  Ali,  a  chief  who  was  much  dreaded  by  those 
of  other  tribes.  Richard  and  I  rode  into  the  encamp- 
ment alone,  When  first  the  tribe  saw  our  two  dusky 


462      Ube  "Romance  ot  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

figures  galloping  across  the  sand  in  the  evening,  they 
rode  out  to  meet  us  with  their  lances  couched  ;  but  as 
soon  as  they  were  close  enough  to  recognize  Richard 
they  lowered  their  weapons,  jumped  off  their  horses 
and  kissed  our  hands,  galloped  in  with  us,  and  held  our 
stirrups  to  alight.  I  need  not  say  that  we  received  all 
the  hospitality  of  Bedawin  life.  Richard  wanted  to 
patch  up  a  peace  between  the  Wuld  Ali  and  the 
Mezrab  tribe,  but  in  this  he  did  not  succeed. 

We  had  a  delightful  ride  when  leaving  one  en- 
campment for  another,  and  several  of  the  Bedawin 
accompanied  us.  As  we  mounted  Richard  whispered 
to  me,  "  Let's  show  those  fellows  that  the  English 
can  ride.  They  think  that  nobody  can  ride  but 
themselves,  and  that  nothing  can  beat  their  mares." 
I  looked  round,  and  saw  their  thorough-bred  mares  with 
their  lean  flanks.  I  did  not  know  how  it  would  be 
with  our  half-breds ;  but  they  were  in  first-rate  con- 
dition, full  of  corn  and  mad  with  spirits.  So  I  gave 
Richard  my  usual  answer  to  everything  he  said  :  "All 
right ;  where  you  lead  I  will  follow."  As  soon  as  the 
"  Yallah  ! "  was  uttered  for  starting,  we  simply  laid 
our  reins  on  our  horses'  necks,  and  neither  used  spur 
nor  whip  nor  spoke  to  them.  They  went  as  though 
we  had  long  odds  on  our  ride.  We  reached  the  camp 
for  which  we  were  bound  an  hour  and  a  half  before  the 
Bedawin  who  were  to  have  come  with  us.  Neither  we 
nor  our  horses  had  turned  a  hair.  Their  mares  were 
broken  down,  and  the  men  were  not  only  blown  and 
perspiring,  but  they  complained  bitterly  that  their  legs 
were  skinned.  "  YaSitti,"  said  one,  "El  Shaitan  himself 


(Batberfna  Clou&s  463 

could  not  follow  you."     "  I  am  sorry,"  I  replied,  "  but 
our  fyddishes  would  go  ;  we  wanted  to  ride  with  you" 

When  we  returned  from  this  expedition  we  went 
to  Beyrout,  where  we  spent  our  Christmas.  We  ate 
our  Christmas  dinner  with  the  Consul-General,  and 
his  dragoman  told  me  an  astounding  story  about 
myself  which  was  news  to  me,  as  such  stories  generally 
are.  He  said  that,  a  certain  Jewish  usurer  at  Damascus 
had  told  him  that,  when  I  met  his  wife  at  the  wedding 
of  the  Wali's  daughter,  I  tore  her  diamonds  off  her 
head,  flung  them  on  the  ground,  and  stamped  on 
them,  saying  that  they  were  made  out  of  the  blood 
of  the  poor.  I  was  amused  at  this  monstrous  fabrica- 
tion, but  I  was  also  annoyed.  In  England  there  may 
be  much  smoke  but  little  fire,  but  in  the  East  the 
smoke  always  tells  that  the  fire  is  fierce,  and  one  must 
check  a  lie  before  it  has  time  to  travel  far.  Knowing 
what  certain  Jews  in  England  had  reported  about  me 
before,  I  lost  no  time  in  putting  matters  to  rights 
with  the  authorities,  and  dispatched  the  following 
letter  to  the  Foreign  Office  : 

"January  27,  1871. 
"  MY  LORD, 

"  I  trust  you  will  exempt  me  from  any  wish 
to  thrust  myself  into  public  affairs,  but  it  is  difficult 
for  Captain  Burton  to  notice  anything  in  an  official 
letter  concerning  his  wife,  neither  can  we  expect  the 
Damascus  Jews  to  know  the  habits  of  gentlemen. 
They  respect  their  own  harims,  yet  this  is  the  second 
time  I  am  mentioned  discreditably  in  their  public 


464      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  burton 

correspondence.     In  one  sense  it  may  be  beneficial,  as 
I  can  give  you  a  better  idea  of  the  people  Captain 
Burton  has  to  deal  with  than  official  language  allows 
of,  and  from  which  my  sex  absolves  me. 
"  My  offences  against  the  Jews  are  as  follows  : 

"  I  once  said  *  Not  at  home '  to because 

I  heard  that  he  had  written  unjust  complaints  to  the 
Government  about  my  husband.  Later  on  the  Wali 
gave  a  fete  to  celebrate  the  marriage  of  his  daughter. 
I  was  invited  to  the  harim  during  the  whole  feast, 
which  lasted  five  days  and  nights.  The  Wali's  harim 
and  the  others  invited  made,  I  dare  say,  a  party  of  three 
hundred  and  fifty  ladies.  I  need  not  say  that  men 
were  not  admitted  ;  their  festivities  were  carried  on 

in  another  house.     The  harim  was  amongst  the 

invited.  As  I  supposed  that  they  knew  nothing  of 
what  was  going  on,  I  was  not  desirous  of  mortifying 
them  by  any  coldness  in  public,  and  accordingly  I 
was  as  cordial  to  them  as  I  had  always  been.  On 

the  last  day  the  wife  of separated  herself  from 

her  party,  and  intruded  herself  into  the  Consulesses' 
divan.  We  were  all  together  ;  but  there  was  often  a 
gathering  of  the  Consulesses  for  the  sake  of  talking 
more  freely  in  European  languages,  Turkish  being 
the  language  spoken  generally,  and  Arabic  being 
almost  excluded.  I  received  her  very  warmly,  begging 
her  to  be  seated,  and  conversed  with  her  ;  but  she 
would  talk  of  nothing  but  her  husband's  business.  I 
said  to  her,  *  Pray  do  not  let  us  discuss  this  now  ;  it  is 
not  the  time  and  place  in  public,  where  all  can  hear 
us.'  She  replied,  '  I  want  to  talk  of  this  and  nothing 


Oatbering 

else.  I  came  for  that  only.'  I  said,  (  You  are  a  good 
woman,  and  I  like  you,  and  do  not  want  to  quarrel  with 
you.  Why  speak  of  it  ?  We  are  two  women.  What 
do  we  know  of  business  ?  Leave  it  for  our  husbands.' 
She  replied,  '  I  know  business  very  well,  and  so  do 
you.  I  will  speak  of  it.'  I  then  said,  '  If  you  do,  I 
fear  I  shall  say  something  unpleasant.'  She  replied, 
'  I  do  not  mind  that,  and  I  will  come  and  see  you.' 
I  said,  *  Pray  do  ;  I  shall  be  delighted.'  And  so  we 
shook  hands  and  parted. 

"Six  weeks  after  I  came  to  Beyrout,  and  found  that 
it  was  popularly  reported  by  the  Jews  that  I  had  torn 

Madame    's   diamonds    from    her    hair    on    this 

occasion,  thrown  them   on  the   ground,   and   stamped 

upon  them.     arrived  soon  after  me ;  and 

hearing  from  some  mutual  friends  that  this  report  had 
reached  me,  he  came  to  see  me,  and  told  me  that  it  had 
been  invented  by  his  enemies.  I  replied  that  I  thought 
it  very  likely,  and  that  he  need  not  mind.  He  then 
told  me  that  his  family,  and  his  wife  in  particular,  were 
very  fond  of  me,  and  that  she  had  recounted  our 
interview  at  the  wedding  to  him  just  as  above,  and 
as  a  proof  of  their  friendly  feelings  they  were  coming 
to  see  me  to  invite  me  to  a  soiree. 

"  With  many  regrets  for  trespassing  so  long  on  your 
valuable  time, 

"  I  am,  my  Lord, 
"  Your  faithful  and  obedient  servant, 

"  ISABEL  BURTON. 

"  The  EARL  GRANVILLE, 

"  Secretary  of  State  for  Foreign  Affairs." 


466      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  3Laos  JSurton 

A  gentleman,  Mr.  Kennedy,  from  the  Foreign 
Office  at  home,  was  staying  at  the  Consul-General's  at 
Beyrout,  so  we  thought  it  right  to  invite  him  to  Damas- 
cus, and  he  accepted  our  invitation  a  few  weeks  later. 

As  this  was  an  official  visit  we  made  every  prepara- 
tion. I  met  him  at  Shtora,  the  half-way  house  between 
Beyrout  and  Damascus,  and  travelled  with  him  in  the 
diligence.  At  the  last  station  we  found  the  Wall's 
carriage  and  a  troop  of  soldiers  as  a  guard  of  honour, 
and  we  then  journeyed  in  it  to  our  house.  The  next 
morning  Mr.  Kennedy  visited  the  Consulate,  and 
apparently  found  everything  straightforward  and  satis- 
factory, and  he  paid  official  calls  with  Richard.  During 
the  next  few  days  I  showed  him  most  of  the  sights 
of  Damascus,  and  one  evening  I  gave  a  large  soiree 
in  his  honour.  Mr.  Kennedy  was  fain  to  own  that 
in  its  way  it  was  unique.  He  had  never  seen  a 
party  like  the  one  I  was  able  to  assemble.  We  had 
thirty-six  different  races  and  creeds  and  tongues : 
grey-bearded  Moslems,  fierce-looking  Druzes,  a  rough 
Kurdish  chief,  a  Bedawin  shaykh,  a  few  sleek  Jewish 
usurers,  every  one  of  the  fourteen  castes  of  Christians, 
the  Protestant  missionaries,  and  all  the  Consuls  and  their 
staffs  ;  in  fact,  everything  appertaining  to  public  life 
and  local  authority,  culminating  in  the  various  Church 
dignitaries,  bishops,  and  patriarchs.  The  triple-roomed 
hall,  with  fountains  in  the  middle,  lighted  with  coloured 
lamps  ;  the  bubbling  of  the  water  in  the  garden ;  the 
sad,  weird  music  in  the  distance ;  the  striking  costumes ; 
the  hum  of  the  narghilehs;  the  guttural  sound  of  the 
conversation  ;  the  kawwasses  in  green,  red,  blue,  and 


6atberlng  Glou&s  467 

gold,  gliding  about  with  trays  of  sherbet,  sweets,  and 
coffee, — :all  combined  to  make  the  quaintest  scene. 

I  should  like  to  mention  an  anecdote  here.  In 
the  garden  next  to  ours  there  was  a  large  wooden 
door,  which  swung  always  on  its  hinges.  It  made 
such  a  noise  that  it  kept  Mr.  Kennedy  awake  at 
night.  The  garden  belonged  to  an  old  woman,  and 
I  asked  her  to  have  her  gate  fastened.  She  sent 
back  an  answer  that  she  could  not,  as  it  had  been 
broken  for  years,  and  she  had  not  the  money  to  spare 
to  mend  it.  So  I  took  the  Jaw  into  my  own  hands. 
The  next  night  Mr.  Kennedy  slept  well.  At  breakfast 
he  remarked  the  circumstance,  and  asked  how  I  had 
managed  about  the  door.  "If  you  look  out  of  the 
window,"  I  answered,  "  you  will  see  it  in  the  court- 
yard. I  sent  two  kawwasses  yesterday  to  pull  it 
down  at  sunset."  He  put  on  that  long  official  face, 
with  which  all  who  are  in  the  service  of  Her  Majesty's 
Government  are  familiar,  and  said,  "  Oh,  but  you 
must  really  not  treat  people  like  that.  Supposing 
they  knew  of  these  things  at  home  ? "  "  Suppose 
they  did  !  "  I  said,  laughing.  I  had  ordered  that, 
after  Mr.  Kennedy's  departure  that  day,  the  gate 
was  to  be  replaced  and  mended  at  my  expense. 
The  next  time  the  old  woman  saw  me  she  ran  out 
exclaiming,  "  O  thou  light  of  my  eyes,  thou  sunbeam, 
come  and  sit  a  little  by  the  brook  in  my  garden,  and 
honour  me  by  drinking  coffee  ;  and  Allah  grant  that 
thou  mayest  break  something  else  of  mine,  and  live  for 
ever;  and  may  Allah  send  back  the  great  English  Pasha 
to  thy  house  to  bring  me  more  good  luck  !  "  How- 


468      TTbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

ever,  the  "  great  English  Pasha  "  did  not  return,  for  that 
evening  a  mounted  escort  with  torches  and  the  Wall's 
carriage  came  to  convey  him  and  myself  to  the  gare 
of  the  diligence,  and  we  reached  Beyrout  that  evening. 

Nothing  of  importance  happened  at  Damascus  during 
the  next  few  months.  It  was  a  terribly  cold  winter. 
We  were  pleasantly  surprised  by  the  arrival  of  Lord 
Stafford  and  Mr.  Mitford,  to  whom  we  showed  the 
sights.  We  had  a  few  other  visitors ;  but  on  the  whole 
it  was  a  sad  winter,  for  there  was  famine  in  the  land. 
The  Jewish  usurers  had  bought  up  wheat  and  corn 
cheap,  and  they  sold  grain  very  dear  ;  it  was  practically 
locked  up  in  the  face  of  the  starving,  dying  multitude. 
It  was  terrible  to  see  the  crowds  hanging  round  the 
bakers'  shops  and  yearning  for  bread.  I  used  to  save 
all  the  money  I  could — alas  that  I  could  not  save 
more  ! — and  telling  a  kawwass  and  man  to  accompany 
me  with  trays,  I  used  to  order  a  couple  of  sovereigns' 
worth  of  bread,  and  distribute  it  in  the  most  destitute 
part  of  our  suburb.  I  never  saw  anything  like  the 
ravenous,  hungry  people.  They  would  tear  the  trays 
down,  and  drag  the  bread  from  one  another's  mouths. 
I  have  sat  by  crying  because  I  felt  it  mockery  to  bring 
so  little  ;  yet  had  I  sold  everything  we  possessed,  I  could 
not  have  appeased  the  hunger  of  our  viJlage  for  a 
single  day.  I  wondered  how  those  men  who  literally 
murdered  the  poor,  who  kept  the  granaries  full,  and 
saw  unmoved  the  vitals  of  the  multitude  quivering  for 
want,  could  have  borne  the  sight !  Surely  it  will  be 
more  tolerable  for  the  cities  of  the  Plain  in  the  day  of 
judgment  than  for  them. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

JERUSALEM  AND   THE  HOLY  LAND 
(1871) 

Thy  servants  take   pleasure  in  her  stones,  and  favour  the  du*t  thereof. 

PSALM  cii    14. 

IT  had  long  been  our  desire  to  visit  Palestine  and 
the  Holy  Land  thoroughly,  and  so  in  March,  1871, 
we  determined  to  set  out.  Richard  wished  me  to  go 
by  sea  and  meet  him  at  Jerusalem,  as  he  was  going  by 
land  with  Mr.  Drake,  who  had  now  returned  from 
England  ;  so  I  travelled  across  to  Beyrout,  with  the 
intention  of  going  from  there  by  sea  to  Jaffa  at  once. 
But  when  I  reached  the  harbour  of  Beyrout  there  was 
such  a  rough  sea  that  I  judged  it  better  to  wait  for 
another  steamer.  So  I  put  up  at  the  hotel  at  Beyrout, 
where  I  made  my  first  acquaintance  with  Cook's  tourists. 
They  swarmed  like  locusts  over  the  town,  in  number 
about  one  hundred  and  eighty  ;  and  the  natives  said  of 
them,  "  These  are  not  travellers  ;  these  are  Cookii." 
Certainly  they  were  a  menagerie  of  curious  human 
bipeds.  I  lunched  and  dined  with  them  every  day 
at  the  table  d'hote,  and  mingled  with  them  as  freely 
as  possible,  for  they  interested  me  greatly,  and  I  used 

to  try  and  classify  them  much  as  an  entomologist  would 

469 


470      Ube  TRomance  ot  3sabel  Xaop  Burton 

classify  his  beetles  and  insects.  One  lady  of  for- 
bidding appearance  was  known  as  "  the  Sphinx." 
When  on  an  expedition,  it  was  the  custom  to  call  the 
"Cookii"  at  5  a.m.,  and  strike  the  tents  at  six.  It 
appears  that  her  bower  falling  at  the  stroke  of  six 
disclosed  the  poor  thing  in  a  light  toilet,  whence  issued 
a  serious  quarrel.  She  wore  an  enormous,  brown,  mush- 
room hat,  like  a  little  table,  decorated  all  over  with 
bunches  of  brown  ribbon.  Then  there  was  a  rich 
vulgarian,  who  had  inveigled  a  poor  gentleman  into 
being  his  travelling  companion,  in  return  for  his  ex- 
penses. And  didn't  he  let  us  know  it !  This  was  his 
line  of  conversation  at  the  dinner  table  :  "  You  want 
wine,  indeed !  I  dare  say.  Who  brought  you  out,  I 
should  like  to  know  ?  No  end  of  expense.  Who 
pays  for  the  dinner  ?  Who  paid  for  the  ticket  ?  What 
do  I  get  in  return  ?  No  end  of  expense."  And  so 
on,  and  so  on.  I  longed  to  drop  a  little  caustic  into 
Dives,  but  I  was  afraid  that  poor  Lazarus  would  have 
had  to  pay  for  it  afterwards. 

I  embarked  on  the  next  steamer  bound  for  Jaffa. 
She  was  the  smallest,  dirtiest,  and  most  evil  smelling 
I  have  ever  boarded,  and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal. 
We  had  a  horrid  night,  very  rough,  and  the  first-class 
cabin  became  so  abominable  that  I  joined  the  deck 
passengers,  and  I  longed  to  be  a  drover  and  lie  with 
the  cattle.  My  little  Syrian  maid  was  with  me,  and 
she  was  very  ill.  Jaffa  was  a  rough  place  for  landing, 
but  we  accomplished  it  after  some  little  difficulty.  It 
is  a  pretty,  fez-shaped  town  on  the  hillside. 

We  remained  twenty-four  Lours  in  Jaffa,  and  then 


Jerusalem  an&  tbe  1bols  Xanfc  471 

rode  on  to  Ramleh.  The  gardens  around  this  town 
were  exceedingly  beautiful,  groves  of  orange  trees, 
citrons,  and  pomegranates.  We  soon  entered  the  Plain 
of  Sharon.  The  whole  road  was  green  and  pretty. 
The  country  was  a  beautiful  carpet  of  wild  flowers. 
We  reached  Ramleh  early,  and  I  went  at  once  to  the 
Franciscan  Monastery.  The  monk  who  acted  as  porter 
received  me  very  stiffly  at  first,  until  he  knew  all  about 
me,  and  then  he  became  very  expansive.  They  put 
my  Syrian  girl  and  me  into  a  clean  bedroom  with 
embroidered  muslin  curtains  and  chintz  tops.  At  night 
the  monastery  was  full,  and  we  were  served  by  the 
monks.  When  I  saw  the  company  assembled  in  the 
refectory  at  supper,  I  did  not  wonder  at  the  porter 
receiving  me  with  such  caution.  They  snorted  and 
grunted  and  spat  and  used  their  forks  for  strange 
purposes.  If  I  had  not  been  so  hungry,  I  could  not 
have  eaten  a  bit,  though  I  am  pretty  well  seasoned 
through  living  with  all  kinds  of  people. 

We  started  early  next  morning  in  delightful  weather, 
and  I  was  highly  excited  by  our  near  approach  to  Jeru- 
salem. There  were  several  other  travellers  along  the  road, 
all  bound  for  the  Holy  City.  We  occupied  seven  and  a 
half  hours  on  the  journey.  We  passed  two  cafes  on  the 
road,  impromptu  donkey  sheds,  where  we  found  good 
Turkish  coffee  and  narghilehs  ;  and  there  were  shady 
orange  groves,  and  fields  of  marigolds,  poppies,  and  such- 
like. At  last  I  reached  the  crest  of  the  hill,  and  beheld 
Jerusalem  beneath  me.  I  reined  in  my  horse,  and  with 
my  face  towards  the  Sepulchre  gazed  down  upon  the 
city  of  my  longing  eyes  with  silent  emotion  and  prayer. 


472       abe  Romance  of  Isabel  Xa&2  ^Button 

Every  Christian  bared  his  head  ;  every  Moslem  and 
Jew  saluted.  We  rode  towards  the  Jaffa  Gate,  outside 
of  which  were  stalls  of  horses  and  donkeys,  and  a  motley 
crowd,  including  lines  of  hideous-looking  lepers.  I 
went  to  the  Damascus  Hotel,  a  comfortable  and  very 
quiet  hostel,  with  no  tourists  or  trippers,  of  which  I  was 
glad,  for  I  had  come  on  a  devotional  pilgrimage.  In 
the  evening  I  was  able  to  sit  on  the  terrace  and  realize 
the  dream  of  my  life.  The  sun  was  setting  on  the 
Mount  of  Olives,  where  our  Saviour's  feet  last  touched 
the  earth  ;  the  Mosque  of  Omar  glittered  its  rosy 
farewell  ;  the  Arch  of  Ecce  Homo  lay  beneath  ;  the 
Cross  of  the  Sepulchre  caught  the  ruddy  glow  ;  out 
beyond  were  the  Mountains  of  Moab,  purple  and  red 
in  the  dying  day  ;  and  between  me  and  them,  deep 
down  I  knew,  lay  the  Dead  Sea. 

My  reverie  was  awakened  by  the  arrival  of  Richard 
with  the  horses  and  the  sals  and  Habib.  Charles 
Tyrwhitt-Drake  was  with  him. 

The  next  morning  we  were  out  early.  First  we 
rode  to  see  the  Stone  of  Colloquy  on  the  road  to 
Bethany,  so  called  because  it  is  believed  that,  when 
Martha  came  to  tell  Jesus  that  her  brother  Lazarus 
was  dead,  the  Saviour  sat  upon  this  stone  whilst  He 
conversed  with  her.  It  is  a  little  table  of  rock  about 
a  yard  long.  We  then  went  over  a  jagged  country 
to  Bethany,  a  short  hour's  journey  from  Jerusalem. 
Bethany  is  now  nothing  but  a  few  huts  and  broken 
walls  in  a  sheltered  spot.  We  went  to  see  the  tomb  of 
Lazarus,  which  is  a  small  empty  rock  chamber.  About 
forty  yards  to  the  south  we  were  shown  the  supposed 


473 

house  of  Martha  and  Mary.  We  passed  a  little  field 
where  Christ  withered  the  tree,  marked  by  an  excavation 
in  the  rock,  where  there  is  always  a  fig.  The  way  we 
returned  to  Jerusalem  was  that  by  which  Jesus  rode  upon 
the  ass  in  triumph  upon  Palm  Sunday,  down  the  Mount 
of  Olives,  and  in  at  the  Golden  Gate  of  the  Temple. 

On  the  south  of  the  American  cemetery  there  is 
a  little  spot  of  desolate  land,  which  is  the  site  of  a 
house  where,  when  all  was  over,  our  Blessed  Lady 
lived  with  St.  John.  Here  she  passed  her  last  fifteen 
years;  here  she  died  at  the  age  of  sixty-three,  and  was 
buried  near  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane.  All  that  re- 
mains of  the  site  of  this  small  dwelling  are  some  large 
stones,  said  to  be  the  foundations.  We  then  visited 
the  Coenaculum,  or  the  room  of  the  Last  Supper.  An 
ancient  church,  which  is  now  converted  into  a  mosque, 
is  built  on  the  site  of  the  Last  Supper  room.  It  is  a 
long  hall  with  a  groined  roof,  and  some  say  that  it  is 
the  actual  site,  built  with  other  materials.  We  then 
visited  the  house  of  Caiaphas,  and  in  the  afternoon 
we  sat  in  the  English  burial-ground  on  Mount  Zion, 
talking  and  picking  a  flower  here  and  there. 

Charles  Tyrwhitt-Drake  was  our  dear  friend  and 
travelling  companion.  He  was  a  young  man  full  of 
promise  for  a  brilliant  Eastern  and  scientific  career.  He 
was  tall,  powerful,  fair,  manly,  distinguished  for  athletic 
and  field  sports ;  his  intellectual  qualities,  and  his 
mastery  of  languages,  Arabic  and  others,  were  so  great 
that  he  made  me  wonder  how  at  twenty-four  years  of 
age  a  young  man  could  know  so  much.  He  was  a 
thorough  Englishman,  the  very  soul  of  honour. 


474      Ube  Romance  of  Isabel  %aog  Burton 

I  should  weary  and  not  edify  if  I  were  to  describe 
all  we  saw  at  Jerusalem.  I  have  written  of  it  more 
fully  elsewhere,1  and  I  can  never  hope  to  convey  the 
remarkably  vivid  way  in  which  it  brought  home  to 
me  the  truth  of  the  Gospel  narrative.  But  I  think 
there  are  two  spots  which  I  ought  to  describe :  one 
is  the  Calvary  Church,  and  the  other  is  the  Holy 
Sepulchre. 

There  are  six  holy  spots  on  Mount  Calvary.  In 
the  church  itself,  about  four  or  five  yards  on  the 
right  hand,  at  the  head  of  the  staircase  before  you 
advance  up  the  church,  the  black-and-white  rose  in  the 
marble  shows  where  our  Saviour  was  stripped.  Three 
yards  farther,  before  an  altar,  a  slab  covers  the  spot 
where  they  nailed  Him  to  the  Cross ;  and  a  little 
farther  on,  at  the  High  Altar,  the  Sacrifice  was 
consummated.  The  High  Altar  is  resplendent ;  but 
one  wishes  it  were  not  there,  for  all  one's  interest  is 
concentrated  upon  a  large  silver  star  underneath  it. 
On  hands  and  knees  I  bowed  down  to  kiss  it,  for 
it  covered  the  hole  in  the  rock  where  the  Cross, 
with  our  dying  Lord  upon  it,  was  planted.  I  put  my 
arm  into  the  hole,  and  touched  it  for  a  blessing.  On 
the  right  hand  is  the  hole  of  the  good  thief's  cross, 
and  on  the  left  the  bad  thief's,  each  marked  by  a 
black  marble  cross.  The  cleft  in  the  solid  rock  which 
opened  when  "Jesus,  crying  with  a  loud  voice,  gave 
up  the  ghost,"  and  {<  the  earth  quaked  and  the  rocks 
were  rent,"  is  still  visible.  You  can  see  it  again 

1  The  Inner  Life  of  Syria,  Palestine,  and  the  Holy  Land,  by 
Isabel  Burton,   2  vols. 


475 

below,  in  the  deepest  part  of  the  church,  where  lies 
Adam's  tomb.  The  surface  looks  as  if  it  were 
oxidized  with  blood,  and  tradition  says  that  this 
colour  has  ever  remained  upon  it. 

We  will  now  proceed  from  Calvary  to  the  Holy 
Sepulchre.  Entering  the  Basilica,  the  vast  church 
where  the  Holy  Sepulchre  is,  we  find  a  little  chapel 
enclosing  the  grave.  It  stands  under  the  centre  of  the 
great  dome,  which  covers  the  whole  Basilica.  The 
Holy  Sepulchre  itself,  all  of  it  cut  in  one  solid  rock, 
consists  of  a  little  ante-chamber  and  an  inner  chamber 
containing  a  place  for  interment.  It  is  carved  out  of 
the  stone  in  the  form  of  a  trough,  which  had  a  stone 
slab  for  a  covering,  and  it  is  roofed  by  a  small  arch, 
also  cut  in  the  rock.  When  St.  Helena  prepared  for 
building  the  Basilica  with  the  Holy  Sepulchre  and 
Calvary,  she  separated  the  room  containing  the  sacred 
tomb  from  the  mass  of  rock,  and  caused  an  entrance 
vestibule  to  be  carved  out  of  the  remainder.  Would 
that  St.  Helena  had  contented  herself  with  building 
indestructible  walls  round  the  sacred  spots  and  left 
them  to  Nature,  marking  them  only  with  a  cross  and 
an  inscription  !  They  would  thus  have  better  satisfied 
the  love  and  devotion  of  Christendom,  than  the  little, 
ornamented  chapels  which  one  shuts  one's  eyes  not  to 
see,  trying  to  realize  what  had  once  been.  In  the 
ante-chamber  are  two  columns,  and  in  the  middle  is 
the  stone  upon  which  the  angel  sat  when  it  was  rolled 
back  from  the  Sepulchre.  Christians  of  every  race, 
tongue,  and  creed  burn  gold  and  silver  lamps  day  and 
night  before  the  grave,  so  that  the  chapel  inside  is 


476       TTbe  Romance  ot  -Jsabel  Xaog  Burton 

covered  with  them,  and  priests  of  each  form  of  Chris- 
tian faith  officiate  here  in  turn.  The  exterior  of  the 
Sepulchre  is  also  covered  with  gold  and  silver  lamps, 
burnt  by  different  Christians.  Fifteen  lamps  of  gold 
hang  in  a  row  about  the  grave  itself.  The  Turks  hold 
the  keys.  In  going  in  or  coming  out  all  kneel  three 
times  and  kiss  the  ground.  After  you  cross  the  vesti- 
bule, which  is  dark,  you  crouch  to  pass  through  the 
low,  rock-cut  archway  by  which  you  enter  the  tomb. 
You  kneel  by  the  Sepulchre,  which  appears  like  a  raised 
bench  of  stone ;  you  can  put  your  hands  upon  it,  lean 
your  face  upon  it,  if  you  will,  and  think  and  pray. 

I  was  in  Jerusalem  all  through  Holy  Week,  from 
Palm  Sunday  until  Easter  Day,  and  I  attended  all  the 
services  that  I  could  attend,  and  so  kept  the  week  of  our 
Lord's  Passion  in  the  Holy  City.  On  Good  Friday 
I  went  to  the  "  Wailing-place  of  the  Jews  "  by  the  west 
wall  of  the  enclosure  around  the  Mosque  of  Omar, 
an  old  remain  of  the  Temple  of  Solomon,  and  listened 
to  their  lamentations,  tears,  prayers,  and  chants.  They 
bewailed  their  city,  their  Temple,  their  departed  glory, 
on  the  anniversary  of  the  day  when  their  crime  was 
accomplished  and  Christ  was  crucified.  The  scene  and 
the  hour  made  me  think  deeply.  I  shall  never  forget 
either  the  scene  in  the  Basilica  on  Holy  Saturday,  when  the 
Patriarch  undressed  to  show  that  he  had  nothing  with 
him  to  produce  the  Greek  fire,  and  bared  his  head  and 
feet,  and  then,  in  a  plain  surplice,  entered  the  Sepulchre 
alone.  Five  minutes  later  the  "  Sacred  Fire  "  issued, 
and  a  really  wonderful  scene  followed.  All  the  congre- 
gation struggled  to  catch  the  first  fire.  They  jumped 


Jerusalem  anfc  tbe  1bolg  %an&  477 

on  each  other's  heads,  shoulders,  and  backs ;  they  hunted 
each  other  round  the  church  with  screams  of  joy. 
They  pass  it  to  one  another;  they  rub  it  over  their 
faces,  they  press  it  to  their  bosoms,  they  put  it  in  their 
hair,  they  pass  it  through  their  clothes,  and  not  one 
of  this  mad  crowd  feels  himself  burnt.  The  fire  looked 
to  me  like  spirits  on  tow  ;  but  it  never  went  out,  and 
every  part  of  the  Basilica  is  in  one  minute  alight  with 
the  blaze.  I  once  believed  in  this  fire,  but  it  is  said 
now  to  be  produced  in  this  manner  :  In  one  of  the 
inner  walls  of  the  Sepulchre  there  is  a  sliding  panel, 
with  a  place  to  contain  a  lamp,  which  is  blessed,  and 
for  centuries  the  Greeks  have  never  allowed  this  lamp 
to  go  out,  and  from  it  they  take  their  "  Sacred  Fire." 
Richard  was  assured  by  educated  Greeks  that  a  lucifer 
box  did  the  whole  business,  and  that  is  probable ;  but 
be  that  so  or  not,  there  was  a  man-of-war  waiting  at 
Jaffa  to  convey  the  "  Sacred  Fire  "  to  St.  Petersburg. 

It  was  later  on  in  the  day,  after  we  had  made  an 
excursion  to  see  the  Convent  of  the  Cross,  that  Richard, 
Charles  Tyrwhitt-Drake,  and  I  went  off  to  explore  the 
Magharat  el  Kotn,  also  called  the  Royal  Caverns. 
They  are  enormous  quarries,  the  entrance  to  which 
looks  like  a  hole  in  the  wall  outside  Jerusalem,  not  far 
from  the  Gate  of  Damascus.  We  crept  in,  and  found 
ourselves  lost  in  endless  artificial  caves  and  galleries. 
Richard  and  Mr.  Drake  were  delighted  with  them  ;  but 
I  soon  left  the  enthusiasts,  for  the  caves  did  not  interest 
me.  I  had  kept  Lent  fasting  ;  I  had  attended  all  the 
long  ceremonies  of  Holy  Week  ;  and  I  was  therefore 
very  tired  on  this  day,  Holy  Saturday,  the  more  so 


478      ZCbe  "Romance  of  -Jsabel  Xaog  JSurton 

because  I  had  not  only  attended  my  own  Church's 
ceremonies,  but  all  those  of  every  sect  in  Jerusalem. 
So  I  gave  up  exploring  the  caves,  and  sauntered  away 
to  the  northernmost  point  of  Mount  Bezetha,  and  saw 
the  Cave  of  the  Prophet  Jeremias.  It  was  here  that 
he  wrote  his  Lamentations. 

I  then  climbed  up  to  a  large  cave  somewhat  to  the 
left,  above  that  of  Jeremias,  where  I  could  look  down 
upon  Jerusalem.  Here,  worn  out  with  fatigue,  fasting, 
and  over-excitement,  I  lay  down  with  my  head  upon 
the  stone,  and  slept  a  long  sleep  of  two  hours,  during 
which  time  I  dreamed  a  long,  vivid  dream.  Its  details 
in  full  would  occupy  a  volume.  Byron  says :  "  Dreams 
in  their  development  have  breath  and  tears  and  torture 
and  the  touch  of  joy.  They  leave  a  weight  upon  our 
waking  thoughts  and  look  like  heralds  of  eternity. 
They  pass  like  the  spirits  of  the  past ;  they  speak  like 
sibyls  of  the  future."  The  spirit  of  Jeremias  might 
have  touched  the  stone  upon  which  I  slept,  or  Baruch 
might  have  dwelt  there.  I  dreamed  for  hours,  and 
then  I  awoke.  A  goat-herd  had  entered  the  cave, 
and  I  half  fancy  he  had  shaken  me,  for  he  looked 
scared  and  said,  "Pardon,  Ya  Sitti  ;  I  thought  you 
were  dead." 

The  bells  of  the  Sepulchre  were  giving  out  their 
deep-tongued  notes  and  re-echoing  over  the  hills.  I 
looked  at  my  watch  ;  it  was  the  Ave  Maria — sunset. 
I  came  back  with  a  rush  to  reality  ;  all  my  dream  views 
vanished,  and  the  castles  in  the  air  tumbled  down  like 
a  pack  of  cards.  Nothing  remained  of  my  wondrous 
dream,  with  its  marvellous  visions,  its  stately  procession 


479 

of  emperors,  kings,  queens,  pontiffs,  and  ministers — 
nothing  remained  of  them  all,  but  only  my  poor,  humble 
self,  private  and  obscure,  still  to  toil  on  and  pray  and 
suffer.  I  had  to  rouse  myself  at  once,  and  almost 
to  run,  so  as  to  pass  the  gates  before  I  was  locked 
out  of  the  city  for  the  night.  No  one  would  have 
thought  of  looking  for  me  in  that  cave.  I  should 
certainly  have  been  reported  as  murdered.  When  I 
arrived  home  it  was  long  past  sunset,  but  Richard  and 
Mr.  Tyrwhitt-Drake  had  not  returned  from  their  visit 
to  the  Caves  of  Magharat  el  Kotn.  The  gates  of 
Jerusalem  were  shut,  and  I  felt  seriously  alarmed,  Jest 
they  should  have  met  with  some  accident ;  so  before 
settling  myself  to  write  my  dream,  I  ordered  my  horse 
and  rode  back  to  the  Damascus  Gate  to  propitiate  the 
guard  and  to  post  a  kawwass  at  the  gate,  that  I  might 
get  into  the  city  again.  It  was  pitch  dark  ;  so  I  went 
down  myself  to  the  caves,  which  were  miles  long  and 
deep,  with  lights  and  ropes.  After  a  quarter  of  an 
hour's  exploration  I  met  them  coming  back,  safe.  As 
soon  as  we  got  home  I  locked  myself  in  my  room  and 
wrote  down  the  incidents  of  my  dream. 

The  next  morning,  Easter  Sunday,  I  was  up  before 
dawn,  and  had  the  happiness  of  hearing  two  Masses 
and  receiving  Holy  Communion  in  the  Sepulchre.  I 
was  the  only  person  present  besides  the  celebrant  and 
the  acolyte.  During  the  day  we  walked  round  about 
Jerusalem,  and  visited  many  sacred  spots. 

On  Easter  Monday  in  the  afternoon  we  rode  over 
bad  country  to  the  Cave  of  St.  John  the  Baptist, 
where  he  led  the  life  of  a  hermit  and  prepared  for 


480      Ube  iRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcp  Burton 

his  preaching.  It  was  a  small  cave,  and  there  is  a 
bench  in  it  cut  in  the  stone,  which  served  the  Baptist 
as  a  bed.  The  priests  now  celebrate  Mass  on  it. 

On  Easter  Tuesday  one  of  Her  Majesty's  men- 
of-war  arrived  at  Jaffa,  and  a  number  of  sailors  rode 
up  to  Jerusalem  in  the  evening,  and  kept  high  festival. 
It  sounded  strange  in  the  solemn  silence  of  the  Holy 
City  to  hear  the  refrains  of  "  We  won't  go  home  till 
morning  "  until  past  midnight.  But  a  truce  to  senti- 
ment ;  it  did  me  good  to  hear  their  jolly  English 
voices,  so  I  ordered  some  drink  for  them,  and  sent 
a  message  to  them  to  sing  "  Rule  Britannia  "  and  "  God 
save  the  Queen"  for  me,  which  they  did  with  a  hearty 
good-will.  They  made  the  old  walls  ring  again. 

On  Wednesday  we  went  to  Bethlehem.  There  is 
a  monastery  over  the  holy  places  where  the  Nativity 
took  place.  You  descend  a  staircase  into  the  crypt, 
which  must  have  formed  part  of  the  old  khan,  or 
inn,  where  Mary  brought  forth  our  Lord.  The  centre 
of  attraction  is  a  large  grotto,  with  an  altar  and  a 
silver  star  under  it,  and  around  the  star  is  written, 
"  Hie  de  Virgine  Maria  Jesus  Christus  natus  est." 
The  manger  where  the  animals  fed  is  an  excavation 
in  the  rock. 

The  next  day,  having  exhausted  the  objects  of  interest 
in  and  about  Bethlehem,  we  continued  our  travels.  We 
rode  on  to  Hebron,  an  ancient  town  lying  in  a  valley 
surrounded  by  hills.  The  houses  are  old  and  ruinous. 
One  cannot  go  out  upon  one's  roof  without  all  the 
other  roofs  being  crowded,  and  cries  of  "  Bakshish " 
arise  like  the  cackle  of  fowls.  There  is  a  mosque 


Semsalem  ant>  tbe  1bolE  Xanfc  481 

of  some  interest,  which  we  explored  ;  but  it  was  very 
disappointing  that  Richard,  who  had  made  the  pilgrimage 
to  Mecca,  and  who  was  considered  as  having  a  right  to 
enter  where  Moslems  enter,  could  not  be  admitted  by 
the  Hebronites  to  the  cave  below  the  mosque,  the  only 
part  which  was  not  visited  by  travellers.  The  answer 
was,  "  If  we  went,  you  should  go  too  ;  but  even  we 
dare  not  go  now.  The  two  doors  have  been  closed, 
one  for  seventy  years,  and  the  other  for  one  hundred 
and  fifty  years."  Speaking  generally,  we  found  Hebron 
a  dirty,  depressing  place,  full  of  lazy,  idfe  people, 
and  a  shaykh  told  us  that  there  was  not  a  Christian 
in  the  place,  as  though  that  were  something  to  be 
proud  of. 

On  Low  Sunday  we  left  Hebron  and  rode  back 
to  Jerusalem,  where  I  enjoyed  several  days  quietly 
among  the  holy  sites.  While  we  were  there  we  were 
invited  by  the  Anglican  Bishop  Gobat  to  a  soiree, 
which  we  enjoyed  very  much  indeed,  and  we  met 
several  very  interesting  people,  including  Mr.  Holman 
Hunt. 

On  April  24  we  left  Jerusalem.  Quite  a  company 
went  with  us  as  far  as  Bir  Ayyub — Joab's  Well. 
Then  our  friends  rode  back  to  Jerusalem ;  Richard 
and  Mr.  Tyrwhitt-Drake  went  in  another  direction  ; 
and  I  remained  alone  with  servants,  horses,  and  baggage. 
I  sent  them  on  in  advance,  and  turned  my  horse's  head 
round  to  take  a  long,  last  look  at  the  sacred  walls 
of  Jerusalem.  I  recited  the  psalm  "  Super  flumina 
Babylonis  illic  sedimus,"  and  then  after  a  silent  medita- 
tion I  galloped  after  my  belongings. 

3* 


482      tube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

After  half  an  hour's  riding  through  orchards  and 
grass  I  came  to  a  wide  defile  two  or  three  miles  long, 
winding  like  a  serpent,  and  the  sides  full  of  caves.  I 
climbed  up  to  some  to  describe  them  to  Richard.  The 
country  was  truly  an  abomination  of  desolation,  nothing 
but  naked  rockery  for  miles  and  miles,  with  the  ever- 
lasting fire  of  the  sun  raining  upon  it. 

There  was  a  monastery  in  the  defile  at  the  end,  a 
Greek  Orthodox  monastery.  They  say  that  whatever 
woman  enters  the  monastery  dies.  I  had  a  great  mind 
to  enter  it  as  a  boy,  for  I  was  very  curious  to  see  it. 
However,  I  thought  better  of  it,  and  pulled  the  ends 
of  my  habit  out  of  my  big  boots  and  presented  myself 
at  the  door  of  the  monastery  in  my  own  character. 
The  monk  who  played  janitor  eyed  me  sternly,  and 
said,  "  We  do  not  like  women  here,  my  daughter  ; 
we  are  afraid  of  them."  "  You  do  not  look  afraid, 
Father,"  I  said.  "  Well,"  he  answered,  laughing,  "  it 
is  our  rule,  and  any  woman  who  passes  this  door 
dies."  "  Will  you  let  me  risk  it,  Father  ?  "  I  asked. 
"  No,  my  daughter,  no.  Go  in  peace."  And  he 
slammed  the  door  in  a  hurry,  for  fear  that  I  should 
try.  So  I  strolled  off"  and  perched  myself  on  an  airy 
crag,  from  which  I  could  look  down  upon  the  monastery, 
and  I  thought  that  at  any  rate  the  monks  liked  to  look  at 
that  forbidden  article,  woman,  for  about  sixty  of  them 
came  out  to  stare  at  me.  When  Richard  and  Charles 
Tyrwhitt-Drake  arrived,  they  were  admitted  to  the 
monastery,  and  shown  over  everything,  which  I  thought 
very  hard,  and  I  was  not  greatly  reconciled  by  being 
told  that  there  was  really  nothing  to  see.  We  camped 


•Jerusalem  anfc  tbe  1bols  Xan&  483 


here  for  the  night.  The  sun  was  still  tinting  the 
stone-coloured  hills,  the  dark  blue  range  of  Moab, 
when  a  gong  sounded  through  the  rocks,  and  I  saw 
flocks  of  jackals  clamber  up  to  the  monastery  to  be 
fed,  followed  by  flights  of  birds.  The  monks  tame  all 
the  wild  animals. 

Next  day  we  went  off  to  the  Dead  Sea.  We  had 
read  in  guide-books  that  the  way  to  it  was  very  diffi- 
cult, but  we  did  not  believe  it.  I  wish  we  had,  for  our 
ride  to  it  across  the  desert  was  terrible.  The  earth  was 
reeking  with  heat,  and  was  salt,  sulphurous,  and  stony. 
We  were  nearly  all  day  crossing  the  Desert  of  Judah, 
and  at  last  our  descent  became  so  rugged  and  bad  that  our 
baggage  mules  stuck  fast  in  the  rocks  and  sand.  We  had 
to  cut  away  traps  and  cords,  and  sacrifice  boxes  to  release 
them.  We  could  see  the  bright  blue  Dead  Sea  long 
before  we  reached  it,  but  we  had  to  crawl  and  scramble 
down  on  foot  as  best  we  could  under  the  broiling  sun. 
It  reminded  me  more  of  a  bleak  and  desolate  Lake  of 
Geneva  than  anything  else.  While  we  were  waiting  for 
the  mules  and  baggage  we  tried  to  hide  from  the  sun, 
and  tied  the  horses  to  bits  of  rocks.  Then  we  plunged 
into  the  sea,  and  had  a  glorious  swim.  You  cannot 
sink.  You  make  very  little  way  in  the  water,  and 
tire  yourself  if  you  try  to  swim  fast.  If  a  drop  of  the 
water  happens  to  get  into  your  eye,  nose,  or  mouth,  it 
is  agonizing  ;  it  is  so  salt,  hard,  and  bitter.  Next  day  I 
felt  very  ill  from  the  effects  of  my  bath.  In  the  first 
place,  I  was  too  hot  to  have  plunged  into  the  cold 
water  at  once  ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  I  stopped  in 
too  long,  because,  being  the  only  woman,  and  the 


484      £be  "Romance  of  Ssabel  Xaos  JSurton 

place  of  disrobing  being  somewhat  public,  the  others 
kept  out  of  sight  until  I  was  well  in  the  water,  and 
when  the  bath  was  ended  I  had  to  stay  in  the  water 
until  Richard  and  Charles  Tyrwhitt  Drake  had  gone 
out  and  dressed,  all  the  time  keeping  my  head  of  course 
discreetly  turned  in  the  other  direction,  so  that  by  the 
time  they  had  finished  I  had  been  nearly  an  hour  in 
the  Dead  Sea,  and  the  result  was  I  suffered  from  it. 
After  bathing  we  dined  on  the  borders  of  the  sea. 
The  colours  of  the  water  were  beautiful,  like  the  opal ; 
and  the  Mountains  of  Moab  were  gorgeous  in  the 
dying  light. 

The  next  day  we  rode  over  very  desolate  country  to 
Neby  Musa,  the  so-called  tomb  of  Moses,  and  we 
camped  for  the  night  on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan.  I 
was  very  feverish,  weak,  and  ill.  All  the  others  bathed 
in  the  sacred  river,  but  I  only  dipped  my  head  in  and 
filled  three  bottles  to  bring  home  for  baptisms.  I  was 
most  anxious  to  bathe  in  Jordan,  and  I  cried  with 
vexation  at  not  being  able  to  do  so  in  consequence  of 
my  fever.  In  the  cool  of  the  following  afternoon  we 
rode  to  Jericho,  which  consists  of  a  few  huts  and  tents  ; 
a  small  part  of  it  is  surrounded  by  pleasant  orchards.  It 
was  hard  to  imagine  this  poor  patch  of  huts  was  ever 
a  royal  city  of  palaces,  where  cruel  Herod  ruled  and 
luxurious  Cleopatra  revelled. 

Next  morning  we  rode  out  of  the  valley  of  the 
Jordan,  which,  fringed  with  verdure,  winds  like  a  green 
serpent  through  the  burning  plain  of  the  desert.  We 
encamped  for  the  night  at  Bethel,  where  Jacob  dreamed 
of  his  ladder.  I  felt  so  ill — all  that  Dead  Sea  again — 


Jerusalem  anfc  tbe  Ibols  %an&  485 


that  it  was  proposed  that  we  should  ride  on  to  Nablus 
next  day,  about  ten  hours  distant,  and  that  we  should 
encamp  there  for  four  or  five  days  to  let  me  recover. 

We  rode  over  endless  stony  hills,  relieved  by 
fruitful  valleys.  I  felt  very  ill,  and  could  scarcely  go 
on  ;  but  at  last  we  arrived  at  our  camping  ground.  It 
was  by  a  stream  amidst  olive  groves  and  girdens  out- 
side Nablus.  As  this  was  the  boundary  between  the 
Damascus  and  the  Jerusalem  consular  jurisdiction,  we 
now  considered  ourselves  once  more  upon  our  own 
ground.  We  stayed  at  Nablus  four  days,  and  visited 
all  the  places  of  interest  in  it  and  around  it,  which  I 
have  not  time  to  dwell  upon  now. 

We  left  Nablus  in  the  early  morning,  and  after  a 
delightful  ride  through  groves  and  streams  we  entered 
Samaria,  where,  however,  we  did  no  more  than  halt  for 
a  space,  but  rode  on  to  Jennin,  where  we  camped  for 
the  night.  There  were  several  other  camps  at  Jennin 
besides  our  own  —  two  of  Englishmen,  and  likewise  an 
American  and  a  German  camp  —  five  camps  in  all. 
We  had  quite  a  foregathering  in  the  evening  ;  and  a 
glorious  evening  it  was,  with  a  May  moon.  The  little 
white  village  with  its  mosque  peeped  out  of  the  foliage 
of  palm  trees  and  mulberry  groves. 

We  left  early  next  morning,  and  rode  to  Scythopolis, 
where  we  camped. 

The  next  morning  Richard  and  Mr.  Drake  went  on 
ahead  to  take  some  observations  ;  I  jogged  on  more 
leisurely  behind,  and  our  camp  was  sent  on  to  Naza- 
reth. Everywhere  the  earth  was  beautifully  green,  and 
carpeted  with  wild  flowers.  The  air  was  fresh  and 


486      Ube  TComance  of  Isabel  Olafcg  Burton 

balmy,  and  laden  with  the  scents  of  spring.  I  passed 
the  black  tents  of  some  Arabs,  who  gave  me  milk  to 
drink.  We  also  passed  one  well,  where  we  watered  the 
horses.  It  was  a  perfect  day,  but  I  was  alone.  We 
rode  on  until  we  came  to  Nain,  and  thence  to  Endor. 
Here  we  reposed  under  some  fig  trees  for  an  hour,  and 
were  twice  insulted  for  so  doing.  The  district  around 
Nazareth  was  very  turbulent.  First  came  some  "  big- 
wig "  with  a  long  name,  who,  thinking  I  was  only  an 
Englishwoman,  told  me  to  "  get  up,"  and  said  he 
"  didn't  care  for  consuls,  nor  English,  nor  kawwasses." 
A  poor  woman  standing  by  begged  me  to  go  out  again 
into  the  sun,  and  not  shade  myself  under  the  figs,  and 
thus  displease  this  great  man.  You  see,  when  I  was 
sitting  down,  he  thought  that  by  my  voice  and  face 
I  was  a  woman,  and  as  long  as  my  servants  only 
addressed  me  in  coarse  Arabic  he  bounced  accordingly. 
But  when  I  arose  in  my  outraged  dignity,  and  he  saw 
my  riding-habit  tucked  into  my  boots,  he  thought  that 
I  was  a  boy,  or  rather  a  youth ;  and  I  flourished  my 
whip  and  cried,  "  You  may  not,  O  Shaykh,  care  for 
consuls,  nor  English,  nor  kawwasses,  but  I  am  going 
to  make  you  care  for  something."  Thereupon  he 
jumped  up  as  nimble  as  a  monkey,  and  ran  for  his  life. 
Then  the  villagers,  thinking  me  the  better  man  of  the 
two,  brought  me  milk  for  driving  him  away.  He 
was  soon  succeeded  by  a  fellah  with  half  a  shirt,  who 
came  out  of  his  way  to  insult  a  stranger,  and  asked  me 
by  what  right  we  sat  under  the  shady  figs  ;  but  the  sais 
gave  him  a  knock  with  his  knobbed  stick,  and  after 
that  we  were  left  in  peace.  Endor  consists  of  about 


Jerusalem  an&  tbe  Dolp  Xanfc  487 

twenty  wretched  huts  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  and  the 
women  look  like  descendants  of  the  original  witch.  I 
went  to  a  big  fountain  where  crones  were  drawing 
water,  dreadful  old  women,  who  accused  me  of  having 
the  Evil  Eye,  which  made  my  servant  very  nervous. 
Blue  eyes  are  always  considered  to  be  dangerous  in  the 
East.  I  said,  "You  are  quite  right,  O  ye  women  of 
Endor ;  I  was  born  with  the  Evil  Eye "  ;  whereupon 
they  became  very  civil,  that  I  might  not  hurt  them. 
We  then  descended  into  the  plain  between  Endor  and 
Nazareth,  and  it  was  so  hot  and  close  that  I  fell  asleep 
on  my  horse  for  fully  an  hour.  At  last  we  reached 
the  Vale  of  Nazareth.  I  was  glad  to  ride  into  the 
camp,  where  I  found  all  our  former  travellers.  They 
were  very  hospitable,  and  gave  me  shelter  until  our 
tents  were  pitched.  The  camps  were  all  pitched  in  a 
small  plain  without  the  town.  Our  camp  was  near  the 
Greek  Orthodox  Church,  and  hidden  from  the  others 
by  a  slight  eminence. 

At  sunrise  next  morning  a  Copt  wanted  to  enter 
my  tent,  either  for  stealing  or  some  other  purpose.  I 
was  still  in  bed,  half  awake,  and  I  heard  the  servants 
tell  him  to  go.  He  refused,  and  was  very  insolent. 
He  took  up  stones,  and  threw  them,  and  struck  the 
men.  The  noise  awoke  me  thoroughly.  I  got  up, 
and  watched  the  proceedings  through  the  top  of  my 
tent  wall.  I  called  out  to  my  servants  to  leave  him 
alone  ;  but  by  this  time  they  were  angry,  and  began 
to  beat  the  Copt.  A  little  affair  of  this  sort  among  the 
people  would  hardly  be  noticed  in  the  usual  way  ;  but 
as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  the  Greeks,  whom  it  didn't 


488      trbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  xaoy  Burton 

concern,  were  coming  out  of  church,  and  seeing  a 
quarrel  they  joined  in  it  and  sided  with  the  Copt. 
Our  servants  were  only  six,  and  the  Greeks  were  one 
hundred  and  fifty.  Richard  and  Mr.  Tyrwhitt- Drake, 
hearing  the  noise,  ran  out  of  their  tents  half  dressed  to 
see  what  was  the  matter,  and  said  and  did  everything 
to  calm  the  people.  They  were  received  with  a  hail- 
storm of  stones,  each  the  size  of  a  melon,  which 
seemed  to  darken  the  air  for  several  minutes.  A  rich 
and  respectable  Greek  called  out,  "  Kill  them  all ;  I'll 
pay  the  blood  money."  Our  Druze  muleteer  called 
out,  "  Shame  !  This  is  the  English  Consul  of  Damascus 
on  his  own  ground."  Another  Greek  shouted,  "  So 
much  the  worse  for  him."  I  put  on  some  clothes 
while  the  fighting  was  going  on,  and  watched  Richard. 
As  an  old  soldier  accustomed  to  fire,  he  stood  perfectly 
calm,  though  the  stones  hit  him  right  and  left.  Most 
men  under  such  pain  and  provocation  would  have 
fired,  but  he  contented  himself  with  marking  out  the 
ringleaders,  to  take  them  afterwards.  I  ran  out  to  give 
him  two  six-shot  revolvers,  but  before  I  got  within 
stone's  reach  he  waved  me  back ;  so  I  kept  near 
enough  to  carry  him  off  if  he  were  badly  wounded, 
and  put  the  revolvers  in  my  belt,  meaning  to  have 
twelve  lives  for  his  if  he  were  killed.  Seeing  that  he 
could  not  appease  the  Greeks,  and  three  of  the  servants 
were  badly  hurt,  and  one  lay  for  dead  on  the  ground, 
Richard  pulled  a  pistol  out  of  Habib's  belt  and  fired 
a  shot  into  the  air.  I  understood  the  signal,  and  flew 
round  to  the  other  camps  and  called  all  the  English 
and  Americans  with  their  guns.  When  they  saw  a 


Jerusalem  ant)  tbe  1bolg  Xanfc  489 

reinforcement  of  ten  armed  English  and  Americans 
running  down  to  them,  the  cowardly  crew  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  Greeks  turned  and  fled.  But  for 
this  timely  assistance,  we  none  of  us  should  have  been 
left  alive.  The  whole  affair  did  not  last  ten  minutes. 

We  found  out  afterwards  that  the  cause  of  the  Greek 
ill-feeling  originated  with  the  Greek  Orthodox  Bishop 
of  Nazareth,  who  had  snatched  away  a  synagogue  and 
cemetery  from  British-protected  Jews,  against  which 
arbitrary  proceeding  Richard  had  strongly  protested. 
Richard  went  later  in  the  day  to  report  what  had 
happened  to  the  Turkish  official,  the  Kaim-makam,  and 
to  ask  for  redress,  but  he  was  unable  to  do  anything. 
He  had  only  twelve  zaptiyeh  (policemen),  armed  with 
canes  !  So  we  had  to  wait  at  Nazareth  five  days,  until 
Richard  sent  to  St.  Jean  d'Acre  for  soldiers.  The 
Greeks  were  at  first  very  insolent ;  but  when  they  found 
that  Richard  was  in  earnest  about  having  the  offenders 
punished,  they  came  in  a  body  to  beg  pardon.  The 
Bishop  also  sent  to  say  that  he  deeply  regretted  the 
part  he  had  taken.  But  whilst  the  Greeks  were  so 
occupied  in  our  presence,  they  were  manufacturing  the 
most  untruthful  and  scandalous  report  of  the  affair, 
which  they  sent  to  Damascus  and  Beyrout,  to  St.  Jean 
d'Acre  and  to  Constantinople,  which  was  signed  and 
sealed  by  the  Bishop  and  endorsed  by  the  Wali  of 
Syria,  who  never  waited  or  asked  for  one  word  of 
explanation  from  Richard. 

The  Greeks  said,  in  their  report,  that  we  began  the 
quarrel,  and  many  other  things  absolutely  false.  For 
instance,  they  stated  that  Richard  fired  upon  them 


49®      ftbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 

several  times  when  they  were  playing  at  games  ;  that 
he  entered  the  church  armed  to  profane  it,  tore  down 
the  pictures,  broke  the  lamps,  and  shot  a  priest ;  and 
that  I  also  went  forth  in  my  nightgown,  and,  sword  in 
hand,  tore  everything  down,  and  jumped  and  shrieked 
upon  the  debris^  and  did  many  other  unwomanly  things. 
This  report  was  actually  signed  and  sealed  by  the  Bishop 
and  by  the  Wali,  and  forwarded,  unknown  to  us,  to 
Constantinople  and  London.  Naturally  Richard's  few 
enemies  at  home  tried  to  make  capital  out  of  the 
accident. 

The  whole  day  after  the  brutal  attack  upon  us  we 
had  to  do  all  the  work  of  our  tents  and  the  cooking 
and  attend  to  our  horses  ourselves.  Even  if  we  had 
wished  to  move  away  from  Nazareth  we  could  not 
have  done  so  with  four  of  our  servants  disabled  and 
helpless.  Dr.  Varden  and  myself  were  entirely  occupied 
with  the  suffering  men.  Richard  and  Mr.  Tyrwhitt- 
Drake  took  charge  of  the  tents  and  horses,  and  the 
doctor  sent  me  a  woman  to  help  to  cook,  as  it  was 
necessary  to  prepare  soup  and  invalid  food  for  the 
wounded,  who,  in  consequence  of  their  injuries,  suffered 
from  fever.  Richard's  sword  arm  was  injured  by 
stones,  and  the  sprained  muscles  were  not  thoroughly 
cured  for  two  years  afterwards.  Besides  this,  we 
had  to  be  prepared  for  a  night  attack  of  revenge. 
And  what  with  the  whispering  of  the  Turkish  soldiers, 
who  had  come  from  St.  Jean  d'Acre,  the  evident  ex- 
citement prevailing  in  the  town,  and  the  barking  of 
dogs,  the  nights  were  not  peaceful  enough  to  admit 
of  sleep. 


Jerusalem  anfc  tbe  1bols  Xaito  49 J 

On  May  10  we  left  Nazareth,  and  every  one  came 
out  to  see  our  departure.  Our  exit  was  over  a  steep 
country  composed  of  slabs  of  slippery  rock,  but  we  soon 
got  into  a  better  district,  over  flowery  plains,  now  and 
then  varied  by  difficult  passes  and  tracks.  We  camped 
for  the  night  by  the  Lake  of  Tiberias,  the  Sea  of 
Galilee.  Next  day  we  hired  a  boat  and  went  round 
the  lake.  Towards  night  there  was  a  glare  behind 
the  mountains,  as  if  some  town  in  the  neighbourhood 
was  on  fire.  We  could  not  sleep  in  consequence  of  the 
stifling  heat,  and  flies  and  mosquitoes  were  numerous. 
The  day  after  I  went  off  to  the  hot  baths  of  Hamath, 
or  Emmaus.  They  were  salt  and  sulphuric.  In  the 
middle  of  the  bath-house  was  a  large  marble  basin, 
through  which  the  water  passed,  with  little  rooms 
around.  Here  people  bathed  for  bone-aches.  The 
women  advised  me  to  enter  cautiously.  I  laughed  ; 
and  by  way  of  showing  them  that  Englishwomen  were 
accustomed  to  water  and  were  not  afraid,  I  plunged 
in  for  a  swim.  But  I  soon  repented.  I  felt  as  if 
I  had  jumped  into  boiling  water.  My  skin  was  all 
burnt  red,  and  I  began  to  be  faint.  However,  on 
leaving  the  bath  I  felt  much  invigorated,  and  lost  all 
the  fever  and  illness  resulting  from  my  swim  in  the 
Dead  Sea. 

The  next  morning  we  galloped  round  the  northern 
end  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  In  the  afternoon  we  rode 
to  Safed,  where  we  camped  for  the  night.  Safed  is  a 
town  of  considerable  size,  and  surrounded  by  beautiful 
gardens.  There  is  a  large  Jewish  quarter,  and  from  the 
hour  of  our  coming  the  Jews  were  all  hospitality  and 


492      ftbe  TRomance  ot  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

flocked  to  our  tents  to  greet  us.  It  was  very  hot  at 
Safed  in  the  daytime  ;  and  when  we  left  the  next  day 
we  had  a  most  trying  ride  across  a  country  burnt  black 
with  the  recent  prairie  fire.  We  encamped  for  the  night 
in  a  lonely  spot,  which  turned  out  to  be  a  perfect 
paradise  for  mosquitoes,  spiders,  scorpions,  and  other 
pests,  but  a  perfect  hell  for  us.  We  could  do  nothing 
but  wrap  ourselves  up  completely  in  sheets,  and  walk 
up  and  down  all  night  long  by  the  camp-fires,  while  the 
jackals  howled  outside.  When  the  morning  light  came, 
we  were  able  to  laugh  at  one  another's  faces,  all  swollen 
with  bites  and  stings.  Mine  was  like  the  face  one  sees 
in  a  spoon. 

I  need  not  dwell  upon  the  next  three  days,  because 
they  were  all  exactly  alike.  We  rode  all  day  and 
camped  at  night  until  the  morning  of  May  19 
dawned.  In  the  cool  light  we  entered  the  Plain  of 
Damascus.  We  halted  for  breakfast  under  a  favourite 
fig  tree,  where  were  shade,  water,  and  grass.  We  then 
ambled  for  three  and  a  half  hours  over  the  barren 
plain,  until  at  last  we  arrived  on  the  borders  of  the 
green  groves  around  Damascus.  We  entered  our  own 
oasis.  Oh  how  grateful  were  the  shade,  the  cool  water, 
and  the  aromatic  smells !  One  hour  more  and  we 
entered  our  own  little  paradise  again,  and  met  with  a 
cordial  greeting  from  all.  It  was  a  happy  day.  I  did 
not  know  it  then,  but  our  happy  days  at  Damascus 
were  numbered. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

THE   RECALL 

(1871) 

I  call  to  mind  the  parting  day 
That  rent  our  lives  in  twain. 

ALF  LAYLAH  WA  LAYLAH 

(Burton's  "Arabian  Nights"). 

ON  returning  to  Damascus,  Richard  made  the 
necessary  explanations  concerning  the  riot  at 
Nazareth  to  the  authorities,  and  he  concluded  that  the 
"  village  row  "  was  ended.  I  also  wrote  a  full  and 
accurate  account  of  the  affair  to  Sir  Henry  Elliot, 
our  Ambassador  at  Constantinople  (who  had  kindly 
expressed  his  willingness  to  hear  from  me  when  I 
had  anything  special  to  communicate),  to  supplement 
Richard's  report.  Sir  Henry  had  telegraphed  to  know 
what  it  all  meant. 

As  Richard  had  still  a  fortnight's  leave  on  hand, 
he  thought  he  would  use  it  by  going  to  return  the 
visit  of  the  Druzes,  who  had  paid  us  many  friendly 
visits  during  our  two  years'  sojourn  at  Damascus,  and 
had  asked  Richard  to  come  and  see  them  in  the 
Hauran.  He  called  upon  the  Wali  before  his  depar- 

493 


494      Ube  Romance  of  30abel  %aog  JBurton 

ture,  and  told  him  of  his  projected  visit.  The  Wali 
expressed  his  gladness,  and  said,  "Go  soon,  or  there 
will  be  no  water."  He  also  wrote  to  the  Consul- 
General  at  Beyrout  to  acquaint  him  of  his  intention, 
and  started  with  Mr.  Tyrwhitt-Drake. 

I  was  left  behind.  A  few  days  after  Richard  had 
gone,  the  Wali,  with  whom  I  had  always  been  on 
friendly  terms,  wrote  me  an  extraordinary  letter.  He 
accused  Richard  of  having  made  a  political  meeting 
with  the  Druze  chiefs  in  the  Hauran,  and  of  having 
done  great  harm  to  the  Turkish  Government.  I 
knew  that  he  had  done  nothing  of  the  kind,  and  so 
I  wrote  to  the  Wali  and  told  him  that  he  had  been 
deceived,  and  asked  him  to  wait  until  Richard  came 
home.  I  pointed  out  to  him  how  fond  people  were 
of  inventing  and  circulating  falsehoods  to  make  mis- 
chief between  him  and  the  Consuls.  He  pretended 
to  be  satisfied.  But  a  Turkish  plot  had  been  laid 
on  foot  of  which  I  knew  nothing.  A  disturbance 
had  been  purposely  created  between  the  Bedawin  and 
the  Druzes,  which  enabled  the  Turkish  Government 
to  attack  the  Druzes  in  the  Hauran.  The  Wali  let 
Richard  go  in  order  to  accuse  him  of  meddling. 
The  fact  was,  the  Wali  had  intended  a  little  cam- 
paign against  the  Druzes,  and  was  endeavouring,  by 
means  known  only  to  the  unspeakable  Turk,  to  stir 
up  sedition  among  them,  in  order  to  have  an  excuse 
for  slaughtering  them  ;  but  Richard  had,  unknow- 
ingly, spoiled  the  whole  plan  by  counselling  the  Druzes 
to  submit.  It  was  that  which  made  the  Wali  so  angry, 
for  it  spoilt  his  plot ;  and  he  reported  that  Richard 


(Recall  495 

meddled  with  Turkish  affairs,  and  agitated  for  his 
recall.  I  wrote  again  to  Sir  Henry  Elliot,  stating  the 
true  facts  of  the  case.  For,  as  I  told  our  Ambassador, 
I  heard  that  the  "  Home  Government  is  actually  con- 
templating pleasing  a  handful  of  bad  people,  headed 
by  this  Wali,  by  probably  removing  my  husband  from 
the  very  place  for  which  his  natural  gifts  and  knowledge 
fit  him,"  and  I  asked  him,  who  knew  the  East,  to 
acquaint  Lord  Granville  how  matters  stood. 

One  day  while  Richard  was  still  away,  a  European, 
who  was  a  favourite  of  the  Wali,  asked  me  what  day 
Richard  would  return  to  Damascus,  and  by  what  road. 
I  asked  why  he  wanted  to  know.  "  Because,"  he  said, 
"my  child  is  to  be  baptized,  and  I  want  him  to  be 
present."  I  found  out  the  next  day  that  the  christening 
was  fixed  for  the  day  before  Richard's  return,  and  I  was 
asked  ;  so  that  the  man  had  not  given  me  the  true 
reason  for  wanting  to  know  when  Richard  was  coming 
back.  I  scented  danger,  and  by  a  trusty  messenger 
I  instantly  dispatched  a  warning  to  Richard  to  "  look 
out  for  tricks."  By  God's  blessing  it  was  in  time. 
Richard  changed  his  road,  and  from  a  concealed  shelter 
he  watched  the  progress  of  a  Ghazu,  or  armed  band, 
beating  the  country,  looking  for  some  one.  By  whom 
they  were  sent,  whom  they  were  looking  for,  and  for 
what  fell  purpose  may  be  imagined. 

My  heart  was  torn  with  anxiety.  Nevertheless  I 
went  to  the  christening,  and  kept  a  calm  exterior.  I 
felt  a  qualm  when  a  certain  Greek  said  to  me,  with 
a  meaning,  unpleasant  smile,  "There  is  a  telegram 
or  something  important  arrived  for  you."  "Oh,  is 


496      Z£be  IRomance  of  Isabel  3Laog  Burton 

there  ? "  I  said  coolly  ;  "  well,  I  dare  say  I  shall  get  it 
when  I  go  home."  Presently  a  kawwass  came  in,  and 
saluted  and  said,  "  The  Consul  is  returned,  Sitti,  and 
wants  you."  Making  my  excuses,  I  retired  from  the 
festivities  ;  and  jumping  on  my  horse,  I  galloped  home, 
where  I  found  Richard  safe  and  sound.  The  telegram, 
which  was  quite  unimportant,  did  not  arrive  until 
several  hours  later.  Had  the  Ghazu  fallen  in  with 
Richard,  the  verdict  would  have  been,  "  Fallen  a  prey 
to  his  wild  and  wandering  habits  in  the  desert."  But  it 
was  not  God's  will  that  he  should  be  removed  in  this  way. 
About  this  time  the  trouble  with  the  Shazlis  also 
came  to  a  head.  The  Shazlis  were  Sufis,  or  mystics, 
esoterics  of  El  Islam,  who  tried  to  spiritualize  its  material 
portions.  Richard  was  most  interested  in  them,  and 
he  used  to  study  them  and  their  history.  The  mystic 
side  of  their  faith  especially  appealed  to  him.  He 
thought  he  saw  in  it  a  connexion  between  Sufiism  in 
its  highest  form  and  Catholicism ;  and  indeed  it  was 
so.  He  followed  it  up  unofficially,  disguised  as  a 
Shazli,  and  unknown  to  any  mortal  except  myself. 
He  used  to  mix  with  them,  and  passed  much  of 
his  time  in  the  Maydan  at  Damascus  with  them. 
Many  of  the  Shazlis  were  secretly  converted  to  Chris- 
tianity in  the  spring  of  1870.  It  was  only  natural 
that  it  should  be  so,  for  there  was  a  link  between 
the  highest  form  of  Sufiism  and  the  true  Catholic 
Church.  Before  long  the  news  of  these  conversions 
leaked  out,  and  the  Wall  determined  to  crush  con- 
version, because  it  would  add  to  European  influence, 
of  which  he  was  already  jealous,  and  he  persecuted 


Ube  "(Recall  497 

and  imprisoned  the  converts.  Richard  endeavoured 
to  protect  them,  and  thus  brought  himself  into  conflict 
with  the  Wall. 

Richard  thought  very  seriously  of  this  revival  of 
Christianity  in  Syria,  and  wrote  to  the  Protestant 
missionaries  about  it.  He  also  wrote  to  Sir  Henry 
Elliot  and  to  Lord  Granville  on  the  subject,  so  im- 
pressed was  he  with  its  vigour  and  vitality.  And 
indeed  there  was  a  remarkable  revival  going  on  below 
the  surface.  The  persecutions  to  which  the  Shazlis 
had  been  subjected  had  caused  the  movement  to 
grow  with  redoubled  force,  and  the  number  of  con- 
verts increased  from  day  to  day.  Many  were  secretly 
baptized,  and  many  more  were  yearning  for  baptism. 
Richard  knew  all  this,  and  sympathized  with  the 
converted  Shazlis  heart  and  soul.  Indeed  I  think  he 
was  never  nearer  a  public  profession  of  Catholicity 
than  at  that  time.  What  he  might  have  done  for 
them,  if  he  had  had  the  chance,  I  know  not;  but 
the  chance  was  denied  him. 

The  next  week  or  two  went  by.  without  anything 
important  happening.  On  June  25  we  went  by  the 
Wali's  invitation  to  a  grand  review  at  El  Haneh, 
the  first  ever  seen  in  Syria.  Nothing  could  exceed 
the  kindness  and  courtesy  of  the  Wali.  Indeed  every 
one  was  very  kind  to  me,  the  only  woman  present: 
We  had  fireworks  and  dinner,  and  then  wild  native1 
dances,  and  after  a  pleasant  drive  home  to  Damascus' 
in  Abd  el  Kadir's  carriage. 

About  this  time  the  heat  was  very  great;  not  a1 
breath  of  air  was  stirring,  night  or  day.  We  felt  like 


498      Tlbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

the  curled-up  leaves  of  a  book.  Food  or  sleep  was 
impossible  to  us.  Every  one  who  could  fled  from 
Damascus.  I  refused  to  go  to  summer  quarters  be- 
cause Richard  could  not  go  too,  and  I  would  not 
shirk  anything  he  had  to  bear.  At  last,  however,  I 
fell  ill  of  fever,  and  Richard  sent  me  away  to  Bludan. 

One  night,  when  I  was  sitting  alone,  I  heard  a  great 
noise  against  the  door.  I  seized  the  only  thing  handy, 
a  big  stick,  and  ran  out.  A  large  serpent  had  been 
attracted  by  a  bowl  of  milk  put  on  the  terrace  for  my 
large  white  Persian  cat,  who  was  valiantly  defend- 
ing her  milk  against  the  snake.  It  raised  up  its  long 
neck  and  hissed  at  me;  but  I  hit  it  with  my  stick  a 
foot  away  from  its  tail,  which  is  the  proper  place  to 
paralyze  a  snake.  It  tried  to  make  away,  but  was 
unable,  and  then  I  killed  it.  It  was  two  yards  and 
a  half  long,  and  as  thick  as  a  child's  arm.  It  had  a 
flat  head,  and  was  of  a  bluish  silver  colour.  Another 
night,  when  I  went  up  to  the  housetop,  a  large  wolf 
sprang  over  my  head.  I  ran  in  for  my  gun,  but 
though  I  was  not  gone  an  instant  the  wolf  was  out  of 
my  reach.  After  a  few  weeks  Richard  came  up  and 
joined  me  at  Bludan  with  Charles  Tyrwhitt-Drake. 

During  this  summer  we  made  many  excursions  to 
pleasant  spots  around  Bludan,  and  we  used  to  invite  the 
Shaykhs  and  principal  people  to  meet  us.  We  would 
choose  a  spot  near  water,  or  near  Bedawin  tents,  or  a 
melon  plantation  ;  and  arriving  at  the  appointed  place, 
we  would  eat  and  drink,  make  a  fire,  roast  and  prepare 
our  coffee,  and  have  a  siesta.  These  impromptu  picnics 
were  very  pleasant,  and  we  always  found  the  Bedawin 


TRccall  499 

charming.  Those  days  were  very  pleasant  ones ;  our 
lives  were  peaceful,  useful,  and  happy.  But  suddenly 
there  came  a  bolt  from  the  blue.  On  August  16,  1871, 
the  blow  fell. 

That  morning  at  Bludan  the  horses  were  saddled 
at  the  door,  and  we  were  going  for  a  ride,  when  a 
ragged  messenger  on  foot  stopped  to  drink  at  the 
spring,  and  then  came  up  to  me  with  a  note.  I  saw 
it  was  for  Richard,  and  took  it  into  the  house  to  him, 
never  thinking  what  it  contained.  It  was  a  curt  letter 
from  the  Vice-Consul  of  Beyrout,  informing  Richard 
that,  by  the  orders  of  his  Consul-General,  he  had 
arrived  at  Damascus  the  previous  day,  and  had  taken 
charge  of  the  Consulate. 

Richard  and  Charles  Tyrwhitt-Drake  were  in  the 
saddle  in  five  minutes,  and  galloped  into  Damascus  with- 
out drawing  rein.  Richard  would  not  let  me  go  with 
him.  A  few  hours  later  a  mounted  messenger  came 
back  to  Bludan  with  these  few  written  words  :  "  Do  not 
be  frightened.  I  am  recalled.  Pay,  pack,  and  follow 
at  convenience."  I  was  not  frightened  ;  but  I  shall 
never  forget  what  my  feelings  were  when  I  received  that 
note.  Perhaps  it  is  best  not  to  try  to  remember  them. 

The  rest  of  the  day  I  went  about  trying  to  realize 
what  it  all  meant.  When  I  went  to  bed  that  night, 
my  mind  was  full  of  Richard,  and  I  had  one  of  my 
dreams,  a  terribly  vivid  dream.  I  dreamed  that  Some- 
thing pulled  me  by  the  arm.  I  sat  up  in  bed,  and  I 
could  still  see  and  feel  it,  and  it  said  in  a  loud  whisper, 
"  Why  do  you  lie  there  ?  Your  husband  wants  you. 
Get  up  and  go  to  him." 


Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

I  lay  down  again,  and  tried  to  sleep  ;  but  again 
it  happened,  and  yet  again — three  successive  times  ; 
and  big  drops  of  sweat  were  on  my  forehead.  My 
English  maid,  who  slept  in  the  room,  said,  "  Are 
you  walking  about  and  talking,  madam  ?  "  "  No," 
I  said ;  "  but  somebody  is.  Are  you  ?  "  "  No,"  she 
answered,  "  I  have  not  stirred  ;  but  you've  been  talking 
in  your  sleep." 

I  could  bear  it  no  longer,  for  I  believed  that  the 
Presence  was  real.  I  sprang  out  of  bed,  dressed, 
went  to  the  stable,  saddled  my  horse,  and  though 
everybody  said  I  was  mad,  and  wanted  to  thrust  me 
back  to  bed  again,  I  galloped  out  into  the  night. 

I  rode  for  five  hours  across  country,  as  though  it 
were  a  matter  of  life  and  death,  over  rock  and 
through  swamps,  making  for  Shtora,  the  diligence 
station.  I  shall  never  forget  that  night's  ride.  Those 
who  know  the  ground  well  will  understand  what 
it  meant  to  tear  over  slippery  boulders  and  black 
swamps  in  the  darkness  of  the  night.  My  little 
horse  did  it  all,  for  I  scarcely  knew  where  I  was 
going  half  the  time.  But  no  one  will  ever  persuade 
me  that  in  that  ride  I  was  alone.  Another  Presence 
was  with  me  and  beside  me,  and  guarded  my  ways, 
lest  I  dashed  my  foot  against  a  stone. 

Three  or  four  of  my  servants  were  frightened, 
and  followed  me  afar  off,  but  I  did  not  know  it 
then.  At  last  I  came  in  sight  of  Shtora,  the  diligence 
station.  The  half-hour's  rest  had  expired,  the 
travellers  had  taken  their  places,  and  the  diligence 
was  just  about  to  start.  But  God  was  good  to  me. 


Ubc  IRecall  501 

Just  as  the  coachman  was  about  to  raise  his  whip, 
he  turned  his  head  in  the  direction  whence  I  was 
galloping.  I  was  hot,  torn,  and  covered  with  mud 
and  dust  from  head  to  foot ;  but  he  knew  me. 
I  was  too  exhausted  to  shout,  but  I  dropped  the 
reins  on  my  horse's  neck,  and  held  up  both  my 
arms  as  they  do  to  stop  a  train.  The  coachman 
saw  the  signal,  he  pulled  in  his  horses  and  took  me 
into  the  diligence,  and  told  the  ostler  to  lead  my 
dead-beat  horse  to  the  stable. 

The  diligence  rumbled  over  the  Lebanon,  and 
reached  Beyrout  twenty-four  hours  before  the  steamer 
sailed — the  steamer  by  which  Richard  was  going  back 
to  England.  For  when  once  he  had  received  his  recall, 
he  never  looked  behind  him,  nor  packed  up  anything, 
but  went  straight  away  from  Damascus,  though  it  was 
the  place  where  he  had  spent  two  of  the  happiest  years 
of  his  life.  As  the  diligence  turned  into  Beyrout  I 
caught  sight  of  him,  walking  alone  about  the  streets,  and 
looking  sad  and  serious.  Not  even  a  kawwass  was 
sent  to  attend  him,  though  this  is  always  the  usual 
courtesy  paid  a  Consul  in  the  East,  nor  was  there  any 
show  of  honour  or  respect.  The  jackals  are  always 
ready  to  slight  the  dead  lion.  But  /  was  there,  thank 
God  ;  and  he  was  so  surprised  and  rejoiced  when  he 
greeted  me  that  his  whole  face  was  illuminated.  But 
he  only  said, "  Thank  you.  Bon  sang  ne  peut  mentir." 
We  had  twenty-four  hours  to  take  comfort  and 
counsel  together.  It  was  well  that  I  was  with  him. 
Everybody  called,  and  everybody  regretted,  except  our 
Consul-General,  who  cut  us.  The  French  Consul- 


502       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcp  JSurton 

General  made  us  take  up  our  abode  with  him  for 
those  twenty-four  hours.  I  do  not  know  whether 
Richard  felt  the  neglect  or  not.  I  only  know  that  I 
felt  it  terribly.  Any  Consul  with  one  atom  of  good 
feeling  would  at  least  have  paid  his  fallen  colleague 
proper  respect  until  he  had  quitted  Eastern  ground  ; 
but  the  disgrace  was  to  himself,  not  to  Richard. 

At  four  o'clock  the  following  day  I  went  on  board 
the  steamer  with  Richard,  and  wished  him  good-bye, 
and  saw  the  steamer  off  to  England.  On  returning  to 
the  quay,  I  found  his  faithful  servant  Habib,  who  had 
also  followed  Richard  all  the  way,  but  had  arrived 
just  ten  minutes  too  late,  only  in  time  to  see  the 
steamer  go  out.  He  flung  himself  down  on  the  quay 
in  a  passion  of  tears. 

I  took  the  night  diligence  back  to  Damascus.  In 
spite  of  the  August  weather  it  was  a  cold,  hard,  seven 
hours'  drive  over  the  Lebanon.  I  had  brought  nothing 
with  me  ;  my  clothes  were  dry  and  stiff,  and  I  was 
dead  tired.  On  the  road  I  passed  our  honorary 
dragoman.  From  sheer  habit  I  called  out  to  him, 
but  he  quickly  reminded  me  that  I  had  no  official 
position  now,  for  he  turned  his  head  the  other  way, 
and  passed  me  by.  I  sent  a  peasant  after  him,  but  he 
shook  his  head  and  rode  on.  It  was  one  of  my  re- 
minders that  "  Le  roi  est  mort."  I  suppose  the  rule 
extends  everywhere,  but  perhaps  the  king's  widow 
feels  it  most.  It  was  not  all  like  this  though,  for  I 
shall  never  forget  the  kindness  which  was  showered 
upon  me  by  many  during  my  last  days  in  Syria. 

In   due  time    I    arrived   at    the    khan,   or    diligence 


Ube  IRecall  503 

station,  where  I  had  left  my  horse  two  days  previously. 
I  slept  there  for  two  hours.  Early  next  morning  I 
rode  to  see  a  friend,  who  kindly  insisted  on  my  staying 
a  day  with  her.  Here  Charles  Tyrwhitt-Drake,  a  kaw- 
wass,  and  servant  and  horse  met  me,  and  escorted  me 
back  to  Bludan.  I  arrived  home  ill,  tired,  and  harassed. 
I  was  thankful  to  find  there  a  woman  friend  who  had 
come  over  to  keep  me  company.  She  was  as  much 
grieved  as  I  was  myself,  and  we  wept  together. 

After  the  insults  and  neglect  which  had  been  meted 
out  to  us  at  Bey  rout,  I  expected  in  Damascus,  where 
official  position  is  everything,  and  where  women 
are  of  no  account,  that  I  should  be,  figuratively 
speaking,  trampled  underfoot.  I  was  mistaken.  I 
can  never  describe  the  gratitude,  affection,  and  respect 
which  were  showered  upon  me  during  my  last  days  in 
Syria.  The  news  of  our  recall  spread  like  wildfire. 
All  the  surrounding  villagers  poured  in.  The  house 
and  gardens  at  Bludan  were  always  full  of  people — my 
poor  of  course,  but  others  too.  Moslems  flung  them- 
selves on  the  ground,  shedding  bitter  tears,  and  tearing 
their  beards  with  grief  for  the  loss  of  the  man  whose 
life  the  Wali  had  the  audacity  to  report  they  wished 
to  take.  They  kept  asking,  "  What  have  we  done  that 
your  Government  should  take  him  away  from  us?" 
"  Let  some  of  us  go  over  to  your  land,  and  kneel  at 
the  feet  of  your  Queen,  and  pray  that  he  may  be  sent 
back  to  us  again."  This  thing  went  on  for  days  and 
days,  and  I  received  from  nearly  all  the  country  round 
little  deputations  of  Shaykhs,  who  bore  letters  of  affection 
or  condolence  or  praise.  I  loved  Syria  so  dearly  it 


504       ftbe  "Romance  ot  -Jsabel  Xafcp  JSurton 

broke  my  heart  to  leave  it,  and  always  with  me  wis  the 
gnawing  thought :  How  shall  I  tear  the  East  out  of  my 
heart,  and  adapt  myself  again  to  the  bustling,  struggling, 
everyday  life  of  Europe  ? 

I  lost  no  time  in  settling  our  affairs  at  Bludan.  I  paid 
all  the  bills,  packed  Richard's  boxes  and  sent  them  to 
England,  broke  up  our  establishment  at  Bludan,  and  had 
all  that  was  to  accompany  me  transferred  to  Damascus. 

Two  nights  before  I  left  Bludan  I  had  another  dream. 
Again  Something  came  to  me  in  the  night,  and  pulled  me 
and  whispered,  "  Go  and  look  after  that  Bedawi  boy, 
whose  grandmother  took  him  away  when  you  were 
treating  him  for  rheumatic  fever."  I  was  tired  and 
miserable,  and  tried  to  sleep.  I  was  pulled  again.  I 
remonstrated.  A  third  time  I  was  pulled  by  the  wrist. 
"  Go,  go,  go  !  "  said  the  voice.  "  I  will  go,"  I  answered. 
At  dawn  I  rode  out  in  the  direction  where.  I  knew  his 
tribe  was  encamped.  After  three  hours  I  saw  some 
black  tents  in  the  distance,  but  before  I  got  to  them 
I  met  an  old  crone  with  a  burden  covered  with  sacking 
on  her  back.  "  Is  that  the  boy  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Yes,"  she 
said  ;  "  he  is  very  bad,  and  wanted  to  be  taken  to  you, 
so  I  was  bringing  him."  I  got  down  from  my  horse, 
and  assisted  her  to  lay  the  boy  on  the  sand.  I  saw  that 
death  was  near  ;  he  looked  so  wistfully  at  me  with  his 
big  black  eyes.  "  Is  it  too  late  ? "  he  whispered. 
"  Yes,  my  boy,  it  is,"  I  said,  taking  hold  of  his  cold 
hand.  "  Would  you  like  to  see  Allah  ?  "  «'  Yes,"  he 
said,  "  I  should.  Can  I  ?  "  "  Are  you  very  sorry  for 
the  times  you  have  been  naugi...y  and  said  bad  words  ?  " 
«'  Yes,"  he  said  ;  "  if  I  get  well,  I  will  be  better  and 


ttbe  IRccall  505 

kinder  to  grandmother."  I  parted  his  thick,  matted 
hair,  and,  kneeling,  I  baptized  him  from  the  flask  of 
water  I  always  carried  about  at  my  side.  "  What 
is  that  ?  "  asked  the  old  woman,  after  a  minute's  silence. 
"  It  is  a  blessing,"  I  answered,  "  and  may  do  him 
good.'*  I  remained  with  him  until  he  seemed  to  be- 
come insensible.  I  could  not  wait  longer,  as  night  was 
coming  on  ;  so  I  rode  back,  for  I  could  do  no  good.  I 
felt  sure  he  would  not  see  the  sun  rise. 

When  all  my  sad  preparations  were  finished  at 
Bludan,  I  bade  adieu  to  the  Anti-Lebanon  with  a  heavy 
heart,  and  for  the  last  time,  choking  with  emotion,  I 
rode  down  the  mountain  and  through  the  Plain  of 
Zebedani,  with  a  very  large  train  of  followers.  I  had 
a  sorrowful  ride  into  Damascus.  Just  outside  the  city 
gates  I  met  the  Wali,  driving  in  state  with  all  his 
suite.  He  looked  radiant,  and  saluted  me  with  much 
empressement.  I  did  not  return  his  salute.  However, 
the  next  time  we  met  I  had  the  laugh  of  him,  for  he 
looked  very  much  less  radiant  a  few  days  later,  when 
the  news  of  his  own  recall  reached  him.  He  fought 
hard  to  stay ;  and  I  do  not  wonder,  for  he  had  a 
splendid  position.  But  none  of  Richard's  enemies  have 
ever  flourished. 

At  Damascus  I  had  to  go  through  the  same  sad 
scenes,  on  a  much  larger  scale,  that  I  had  gone  through 
at  Bludan.  Many  kind  friends,  native  and  European, 
came  to  stay  about  me  till  the  last ;  in  fact,  my  farewells 
threatened  to  assume  the  character  of  a  demonstration. 
This  I  was  most  anxious  to  avoid.  My  one  anxiety 
now  was  to  get  away  as  quietly  as  possible.  I  made 


506       ftbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  %at>£  3Burton 

my  preparations  for  departure  from  Damascus  in  the 
same  way  as  I  had  done  at  BJudan.  I  arranged  to 
sell  everything,  pay  all  debts,  and  pack  and  dispatch 
to  England  our  personal  effects.  I  made  innumerable 
adieux,  and  tried  to  make  provision  and  find  a  happy 
home  for  every  single  being,  man  or  beast,  that  had 
been  dependent  upon  us. 

Two  Moslems  came  to  me,  and  offered  to  shoot 
down  certain  official  enemies  of  mine  from  behind  a 
rock  as  they  passed  in  their  carriage.  A  Jew  also 
came  to  me,  and  offered  to  put  poison  in  their  coffee. 
I  declined  both  offers,  which  they  did  not  seem  to 
understand  ;  and  they  said  that  I  was  threatened  and 
in  danger,  but  I  slept  in  perfect  security,  with  all  the 
windows  and  doors  open.  My  last  act  was  to  go  into 
our  little  chapel,  and  dress  it  with  all  the  pious  things 
in  my  possession.  When  the  day  of  the  sale  of  our 
goods  arrived,  I  could  not  bear  to  sit  in  the  house  ;  so 
I  went  up  to  the  mountain  behind,  and  gazed  down  on 
my  Salahiyyeh  in  its  sea  of  green,  and  my  pearl-like 
Damascus  and  the  desert  sand,  and  watched  the  sunset 
on  the  mountains  for  the  last  time. 

My  preparations  for  departure  necessarily  took  some 
time.  But  Richard  having  gone,  I  had  no  place,  no 
business,  at  Damascus,  and  I  felt  that  it  would  be 
much  better  taste  to  leave.  I  began  to  perceive  that 
the  demonstrations  in  our  favour  were  growing,  and 
threatened  to  become  embarrassing.  The  Moslems 
were  assembling  in  cliques  at  night,  and  were  having 
prayers  in  the  mosques  for  Richard's  return.  They 
continually  thronged  up  to  the  house  with  tears  and 


TTbe  TCecall  s°7 

letters  begging  him  to  return,  and  I  saw  that  my 
presence  and  my  distress  excited  them  the  more. 

Unfortunately  I  did  not  complete  everything  until 
September  12,  which  obliged  me  to  brave  the  unlucky 
1 3th.  As  half  the  town  wanted  to  accompany  me 
part  of  the  road,  and  I  was  afraid  that  a  demonstra- 
tion might  result,  I  determined  to  slip  away  quietly 
by  night.  Abd  el  Kadir  and  Lady  Ellenborough  were 
in  the  secret,  and  they  accompanied  me  as  far  as  the 
city  gates,  where  I  bade  them  an  affectionate  farewell. 
The  parting  with  Lady  Ellenborough  affected  me 
greatly.  I  was  the  poor  thing's  only  woman  friend. 
As  she  wrung  my  hand  these  were  her  last  words  : 
"  Do  not  forget  your  promise  if  I  die  and  we  never  meet 
again."1  I  replied,  "Inshallah,  I  shall  soon  return." 
She  rode  a  black  thorough-bred  Arab  mare  ;  and  as 
far  as  I  could  see  anything  in  the  moonlight,  her  large 
sorrowful  blue  eyes,  glistening  with  tears,  haunted  me. 

It  was  thus,  accompanied  on  my  journey  by  Mr. 
Drake  and  two  faithful  dragomans,  who  had  never 
deserted  me,  and  who  put  themselves  and  all  they 
possessed  at  my  disposal,  that  I  stole  away  from 
Damascus  an  hour  before  dawn. 

I  shall  never  forget  that  last  ride  across  the  desert. 
I  felt  my  heart  sink  as  I  jogged  along  for  weary  miles, 
wishing  mental  good-byes  to  every  dearly  loved  object. 
I  had  felt  fever  coming  on  for  some  days,  but  I  had 

1  Lady  Ellenborough  referred  to  her  biography,  which  she  had 
dictated  to  Lady  Burton — the  true  story  of  her  life,  which  Lady 
Burton  had  promised  to  publish  for  her,  to  clear  away  misrepre- 
sentations. In  consequence  of  difficulties  which  subsequently  arose 
Lady  Burton  did  not  publish  it. 


sos      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xafcg  JSurton 

determined  not  to  be  ill  at  Damascus.  Now  that 
I  had  left  it,  however,  a  reaction  set  in.  When  I 
reached  that  part  of  the  Lebanon  looking  down  upon 
the  sea  far  above  Beyrout,  my  fever  had  increased  to 
such  an  extent  that  I  became  delirious,  and  I  had  to  be 
set  down  on  the  roadside.  Half  an  hour  farther  on 
the  road  was  the  village  of  my  little  Syrian  girl,  who 
was  accompanying  me  back  to  England.  I  was  carried 
to  her  father's  house,  and  lay  there  for  ten  days  very 
ill,  and  was  nursed  by  her  and  my  English  maid.  It 
was  a  trying  time  ;  but  the  whole  family  showed  me 
every  kindness  and  attention,  and  I  had  every  com- 
fort that  the  place  could  afford.  Many  friends,  both 
English  and  native,  came  to  visit  me  from  Beyrout  and 
from  the  villages  round  about.  From  here  I  wrote  a 
long  letter  to  Lord  Derby,  who  had  appointed  us  to 
Damascus,  stating  the  true  facts  of  the  case,  and  ex- 
posing the  falsehoods,  so  far  as  I  knew  them,  which 
had  led  Lord  Granville  to  weakly  consent  to  our  recall. 
I  never  rested  till  that  cloud  was  lifted. 

I  went  down  to  Beyrout  as  soon  as  I  was  well 
enough  to  move,  and  embarked  in  the  Russian  ship 
Ceres ;  the  same  ship,  strange  to  say,  that  had  brought 
me  from  Alexandria  to  Beyrout,  when  I  first  turned  my 
face  towards  Damascus.  As  we  were  about  to  steam  out 
an  English  vice-consul  in  the  Levant  gaily  waved  his 
hand  to  me,  and  cried  out,  "  Good-bye,  Mrs.  Burton  ; 
I  have  been  sixteen  years  in  the  service,  and  I  have 
known  twenty  scoundrels  go  unpunished,  but  I  never 
saw  a  consul  recalled  except  for  something  disgraceful 
— certainly  never  for  an  Eastern  pasha.  You  will  find 


TTbe  "Recall  s°9 

it  is  all  right  when  you  get  home  ;  they  would  hardly 
do  such  a  thing  to  a  man  like  Burton." 

We  arrived  at  Alexandria,  and  I  went  to  a  hotel. 
I  dislike  Alexandria  very  much,  and  was  glad  to  get 
away  on  board  of  a  P.  &  O.,  the  Candid^  to  Southamp- 
ton. It  was  all  right  as  far  as  Malta,  but  after  that  we 
had  some  very  rough  weather.  At  last  our  ship  sighted 
the  lights  of  Portland  Bill,  and  I  knew  that  I  was  at 
home  again.  These  lights  at  night  look  like  two  great 
eyes,  and  there  is  always  excitement  when  they  are  first 
seen.  All  the  English  on  board  rushed  on  deck  and 
cheered  Hurrah  !  It  is  odd  how  we  exiles  love  our 
country,  our  home,  and  our  friends ;  it  is  curious  how 
little  they  think  about  us. 

On  October  14,  1871,  I  landed  again  in  Old  England. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THE   TRUE  REASONS  OF  BURTON'S  RECALL 

No  might  nor  greatness  in  mortality 
Can  censure  'scape :  back-wounding  calumny 
The  whitest  virtue  strikes.     What  king  so  strong, 
Can  tie  the  gall  up  in  the  slanderous  tongue? 

SHAKSPEARK. 

AT  this  point  of  the  narrative  it  is  necessary  to  turn 
aside  to  deal  with  Miss  Stisted's  impeachment 
of  Lady  Burton,  in  the  matter  of  her  husband's  recall 
from  Damascus. 

Miss  Stisted  asserts  that  the  true  cause  of  Burton's 
recall  was  Isabel  his  wife,  who  had  espoused  with  more 
zeal  than  discretion  the  cause  of  the  Shazli  converts  to 
Christianity.  She  adds :  "  And  while  her  husband,  con- 
tinually absent  exploring  or  attending  to  the  duties  of 
his  Consulate,  knew  nothing,  or  next  to  nothing,  about 
her  dangerous  proceedings,  she  impressed  upon  the 
people  that  she  acted  with  his  full  permission  and 
approval."  l  It  was  (according  to  Miss  Stisted)  Isabel's 
"  imprudence  and  passion  for  proselytizing  "  which  so 
enraged  the  Moslems  and  the  Turkish  authorities 

1  Miss  Stisted's  Life  of  Sir  Richard  Burton,  p.  360.  This  book 
was  published  December,  1896,  eight  months  after  Lady  Burton's 
death. 

510 


TTrue  IReasons  of  ^Burton's  TCecaU      511 

against  Burton  that  they  clamoured  for  his  recall. 
Thus  it  is  argued  that  e<  the  true  cause  of  the  terrible 
crash  in  1871  "  was  Isabel,  and  Isabel  alone. 

This,  in  brief,  is  the  sum  and  substance  of  Miss 
Stisted's  indictment  of  Lady  Burton  on  this  point. 
She  makes  her  accusation  without  adducing  a  scrap 
or  shred  of  evidence  in  support  of  it,  and  she  makes 
it  in  the  teeth  of  the  most  positive  evidence  on  the 
other  side.  Let  us  examine  her  charges  in  the  light 
of  facts. 

Fortunately,  in  searching  for  the  true  reasons  of 
Burton's  recall  from  Damascus,  I  am  not  dependent, 
like  Miss  Stisted,  on  a  mere  opinion  of  my  own,  nor 
am  I  dependent  on  the  testimony  of  Lady  Burton, 
which,  though  correct  in  every  detail,  might  be  refused 
acceptance,  on  the  plea  that  it  was  biassed.  The  true 
reasons  are  to  be  found  in  an  official  Blue  Book,1  which 
contains  a  review  of  the  whole  case.  This  book 
publishes  the  complete  correspondence,  official  and 
otherwise,  for  and  against  Burton,  and  comprises  a 
review  of  his  Consulship  at  Damascus  from  the  time 
he  was  appointed,  in  November,  1868,  to  the  day  of 
his  recall,  in  August,  1871. 

It  is  impossible  to  read  this  correspondence  dis- 
passionately without  wondering  how  it  was  that  Burton 
was  not  removed  from  his  post  at  Damascus  before. 
In  the  brief  space  of  two  years  he  seems  to  have 
managed  to  set  against  himself  almost  every  creed, 
nationality,  and  interest  in  Damascus.  From  the  time 

1  The  Case  of  Captain  Burton,  late  H.B.M.  Consul  at  Damascus. 
Clayton  &  Co.,  Parliamentary  Printing  Works,  1872. 


5 «       ZIbe  Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  iJBurton 

he  went  there  to  the  day  he  was  recalled  it  was 
little  but  one  long  strife.  Complaints  to  his  Consul- 
General  at  Beyrout,  to  his  Ambassador  at  Constan- 
tinople, to  his  Chief  at  the  Foreign  Office,  were 
incessant ;  and  as  they  came  not  from  one  part  of  the 
community  of  Damascus  only,  but  from  several,  it  is 
a  marvel  that  the  authorities  at  the  Foreign  Office,  who 
love  nothing  better  than  that  things  should  run,  or 
seem  to  run,  smoothly  at  the  embassies  and  consulates, 
were  so  patient  and  long-suffering.  That  they  were 
so  forbearing  was,  I  think,  largely  due  to  his  wife— 
this  same  Isabel  who,  according  to  Miss  Stisted,  was 
responsible  for  her  husband's  recall  and  the  consequent 
ruin  of  his  official  career.  It  was  Isabel  who  fought 
Burton's  battles  on  every  charge  against  him,  and  she 
defended  him  against  every  attack.  Her  letters  to  Lord 
Granville,  to  Sir  Henry  Elliot,  Ambassador  at  Con- 
stantinople, to  the  Consul-General  at  Beyrout,  to  Lord 
Derby  and  other  influential  friends  in  England,  and  to 
the  permanent  officials  at  the  Foreign  Office,  explaining 
and  defending  her  husband's  action  in  every  particular, 
are  marvels  of  special  pleading.  They  are  not  pub- 
lished, because  they  would  fill  volumes ;  but  they  can 
be  produced,  if  necessary. 

My  contention  is,  that  Isabel  had  nothing  to  do 
with  her  husband's  recall  from  Damascus.  On  the  con- 
trary, had  it  not  been  for  her,  he  would  have  been 
recalled  long  before.  I  also  submit  that  she  had  very 
little  to  do  in  the  matter  of  the  Shazlis,  and  that  little 
she  did  with  her  husband's  full  consent  and  approval. 
Burton  alone  was  responsible  for  his  recall  in  that  he 


Ube  ttrue  TReasons  ot  Burton's  IRecall      5*3 

managed  to  offend  nearly  every  part  of  the  com- 
munity at  Damascus,  and  so  gave  the  Turkish  authori- 
ties, who  disliked  him  from  the  first,  an  excuse  for 
demanding  his  recall.  I  do  not  say  that  he  was  wrong 
in  every  instance — far  from  it  ;  he  was  often  in  the 
right ;  only  it  is  possible  to  do  the  right  thing  in 
the  wrong  way,  and  this  Burton  generally  did. 

And  now  for  the  proofs.  It  is  necessary  to  begin 
at  the  beginning.  From  the  first  Burton  took  up 
his  work  at  Damascus  with  "pinioned  arms,"  to  use 
his  own  phrase.  In  other  words,  he  started  with 
a  prejudice  against  him.  Lord  Derby  (then  Lord 
Stanley),  as  we  know,  gave  him  the  appointment ;  but 
before  it  was  confirmed  Lord  Clarnedon  succeeded 
Lord  Stanley  at  the  Foreign  Office,  and  in  the  interval 
Burton's  enemies,  chiefly  Protestant  missionaries,  who 
feared  he  was  anti-missionary,  took  steps  to  work  upon 
Lord  Clarendon  to  prevent  his  appointment  going 
forward.  So  strong  and  influential  was  this  opposition 
that  Lord  Clarendon  sent  for  Burton  specially,  and 
had  a  long  conversation  with  him.  He  told  him 
that  "very  serious  objections"  to  his  appointment 
at  Damascus  had  reached  the  Foreign  Office,  and, 
although  he  allowed  the  appointment  to  go  forward, 
on  receiving  from  Burton  assurances  that  the  objec- 
tions were  unfounded,  he  warned  him  that,  if  the 
feeling  stated  to  exist  against  him  on  the  part  of 
the  authorities  and  people  at  Damascus  should  pre- 
vent the  proper  performance  of  his  Consular  duties, 
it  would  be  the  duty  of  the  Government  immediately 
to  recall  him. 

33 


5  H      tlbe  ttomance  of  Ssabel  Xaog  Burton 

In  a  subsequent  letter  Lord  Clarendon  directed  his 
Secretary  to  repeat  to  Burton  what  he  had  already  told 
him  verbally.1 

To  this  letter  Burton  replied :  "  I  once  more  under- 
take to  act  with  unusual  prudence,  and  under  all 
circumstances  to  hold  myself,  and  myself  only,  answer- 
able for  the  consequences."  2 

Whether  or  not  he  acted  with  "  unusual  prudence  " 
the  following  will  show  : 

i.  His  difference  with  the  English  missionaries. — The 
first  unpleasantness  occurred  in  June  and  July,  1870, 
with  the  Superintendent  of  the  British  Syrian  School 
at  Beyrout.  This  gentleman,  who  was  a  Protestant 
missionary,  came  to  Damascus  to  proselytize,  and  to 
distribute  tracts  among  the  Moslems,  and  doubtless 
acted  with  little  discretion.  Burton  reprimanded  him, 
and  reported  him  to  the  Foreign  Office.  In  this  no 
doubt  he  was  right ;  but  his  manner  of  doing  it 
apparently  inflamed  many  against  him,  especially  the 
wife  of  the  missionary  aforesaid,  who  vigorously  espoused 
her  husband's  cause,  and  in  this  was  supported  officially 
by  the  Consul-General  at  Beyrout.  The  matter  blew 
over  for  a  time,  but  the  attack  was  renewed  again  in 
1871,  and  there  was  constant  friction  going  on  the 
whole  time  of  Burton's  sojourn  at  Damascus  between 
himself  and  the  missionary  and  his  wife  and  their 
friends,  who  were  very  influential  persons  in  Syria. 

1  Vide  Letter  from  Foreign  Office  to  Captain  Burton,  June  19, 
1869  (Blue  Book,  p.  2). 

1  Letter  of  Captain  Burton  to  Foreign  Office,  June  21,  1869  (Blue 
Book,  p.  2). 


Ube  {True  TReasons  ot  Burton's  IRecall      5*5 

2.  His  squabble  with  the  'Druzes. — This  occurred  in 
1870.     Here  we  find  Burton  protecting  the  missionaries 
against  certain  Druzes,  who  had  plundered   and   mal- 
treated   two    English    missionaries    travelling    amongst 
them. '     Burton's    method    of    punishing    the    Druzes 
was  summary.      He    wished    to    impose   a   fine    upon 
them.     This    the    Consul-General  at  Beyrout  refused 
to  impose,  and  again  Burton  came  into  conflict  with 
his    Consul-General.      It   was   obvious   that,   whether 
the   Druzes    deserved   to   be   fined    or   not,    the   man 
to    impose    the    fine    was    not    the    British    Consul, 
but    the    Turkish    Governor-General,    as    they    were 
Turkish  subjects.     In  this  matter  therefore,   although 
Burton   acted  with    the    best   intentions,   he  exceeded 
his  jurisdiction. 

3.  His  dispute   with   the  Jews. — This  was  one   of 
the  most  serious  affairs  in  which  Burton  was  engaged  ; 
and  here   again,   though    there   is   no    doubt   that   he 
was  perfectly  right  in  what  he  did,  his  manner  of  doing 
it  gave  dire  offence.     He  curbed  the  rapacity  of  some 
Jewish   money-lenders,  under   British  protection,  who 
wished  to  "  sweat "  the  native  peasantry  for  the  pay- 
ment of  their  unjust  debts,   and   desired   the    British 
Consul  to  help  them  in  their  extortions.     This  Burton 
rightly  refused  to  do.     And  a  little  later  he  arrested 
two  Jewish  boys,   servants  of  British-protected  Jews, 
for  drawing  crosses  on  the  walls — the  usual  sign  for 
an   outbreak  of  Christian   persecution  at  Damascus — 
and  took  away  temporarily  the  British  protection  from 
their  masters.     This  gave  the  usurers  the  opportunity 
they  had   been   waiting   for,  and   they  wrote  to   the 


516      ftbe  iRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 

Foreign  Office  an  untrue  and  unjust  report,  saying 
that  the  Consul  was  full  of  hatred  against  the  Jews,  and 
demanding  his  recall.  Lord  Granville  sent  a  special 
letter,  requesting  to  know  the  truth  of  these  charges, 
which  he  described  as  "most  serious."  Fortunately 
Burton  was  able  to  satisfy  him,  and  the  storm  blew 
over.  But  the  Jews  neither  forgot  it  nor  forgave 
him. 

4.  The  Greeks  stone  him  at  Nazareth. — Lady  Burton 
has  already  given  a  long  account  of  this  incident,  and 
there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  the  correctness  of  her 
description.  Here  we  find  that  the  Greek  Bishop  and 
his  people  disliked  Burton  because  he  had  exposed  a 
fraudulent  transaction  of  theirs  with  the  Jews.  But  what- 
ever was  the  cause,  there  was  no  doubt  that  they  were 
opposed  to  him  ;  and  the  riot,  which  arose  from  an  appa- 
rently accidental  cause,  was  really  an  outbreak  of  bitterly 
hostile  feeling  against  the  British  Consul.  The  Greek 
Bishop  of  Nazareth  at  once  drew  up  a  grossly  exaggerated 
report  of  the  proceedings,  which  was  endorsed  by  the 
Wali  of  Syria,  and  forwarded  to  the  authorities  at  home. 
Will  it  be  believed  that  Burton  never  sent  home  any 
report  of  the  affair  until  some  weeks  afterwards,  when 
he  returned  to  Damascus,  and  found  a  telegram  awaiting 
him  from  the  British  Ambassador  at  Constantinople, 
asking  what  it  all  meant  ?  His  silence  in  this  matter, 
though  not  intentional,  created  the  very  worst  impres- 
sion among  the  authorities  at  home.  Sir  Henry  Elliot 
wrote  to  Isabel  subsequently  : 

"I  received  versions  of  the  affair  from  different 
quarters,  without  having  a  word  of  explanation  from 


ftrue  TReasons  of  JBurton's  IRecaU      5*7 

Captain  Burton,  from  whom  I  got  letters  of  a  date 
much  subsequent  to  the  occurrence."  * 

Considering  how  very  fond  Burton  was  of  referring 
all  sorts  of  questions  on  the  internal  government  of 
Syria,  with  which  he  had  nothing  to  do,  to  his 
Ambassador  at  Constantinople,  his  silence  on  this 
occasion,  in  a  matter  with  which  he  had  all  to  do,  was, 
to  say  the  least,  somewhat  unfortunate. 

5.  His  dispute  with  the  Wali. — The  Wali  (the 
Turkish  Governor-General  of  Syria)  was,  from  the  first, 
exceedingly  jealous  of  Burton,  because  of  his  know- 
ledge of  Eastern  affairs,  and  his  habit  of  interfering 
with  the  internal  government  of  the  country,  with 
which  he  had  no  concern.  Corrupt  though  Turkish 
rule  undoubtedly  was,  and  is,  it  was  no  part  of  the 
British  Consul's  duty  to  be  perpetually  meddling  in 
disputes  between  the  Wali  and  his  subjects.  Sir 
Henry  Elliot  wrote  to  Isabel,  in  reply  to  a  letter  of 
hers  excusing  her  husband  : 

"  I  should  not  be  frank  if  I  allowed  you  to  suppose 
that  your  letters  had  satisfied  me  that  there  were  not 
grounds  for  the  complaints  which  have  been  made  of 
Captain  Burton  going  beyond  the  proper  attributions 
of  a  Consul,  who  ought  to  be  very  careful  to 
avoid  encroaching  upon  the  domain  of  the  legitimate 
authorities,  who  are  responsible  for  the  administration 
of  their  district,  which  he  is  not.  He  can  be  of  great 
service  as  long  as  there  is  a  proper  understanding 
with  the  Government,  but  a  very  dangerous  state  of 
things  is  created  if  he  makes  himself  a  rival  authority 

1  Letter  from  Sir  Henry  Elliot  to  Lady  Burton,  July  12,  1871. 


Ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xafc£  JSurton 


to  whom  the  disaffected  think  that  they  can  look  for 
redress."  l 

This  (there  is  no  doubt  about  it)  Burton  was 
always  doing  ;  and  his  knowledge  of  oriental  affairs 
and  methods  made  him  all  the  more  formidable  to  the 
Wali.  Matters  came  to  a  head  when  Burton  went  to 
visit  the  Druzes  in  the  Hauran,  a  month  or  two  before 
his  recall.  By  some  means  or  other  he  spoiled  the  Wall's 
game  in  that  quarter  ;  and  this  incensed  the  Governor 
so  much  against  him  that  he  tried  first  to  have  him 
assassinated  in  the  desert,  and  that  failing,  demanded 
his  recall.  Of  this  incident  Burton  himself  says  : 

"  I  was  not  aware  that  the  Wali  (Governor-General) 
had  a  political  move  in  the  Hauran  which  he  did  not 
wish  me  to  see,  or  that,  seeing,  it  was  the  signal  for 
him  to  try  and  obtain  my  recall."  2 

If  this  matter  had  stood  alone,  perhaps  it  would  not 
have  been  sufficient  ground  for  his  recall  ;  but  coming 
as  it  did  on  the  top  of  all  the  others,  it  was,  I  think, 
the  most  potent  factor. 

There  was  another  little  annoyance  too  about  this 
time  —  that  is,  just  before  Burton's  recall.  It  had 
reference  to  the  case  of  one  Hasan,  a  Moslem  con- 
verted to  Christianity,  whom  the  Wali  wanted  to 
punish,  but  whom  Burton  protected  against  him. 
Burton's  action  in  this  matter  was  chivalrous  and 
generous  no  doubt,  but  it  did  not  tend  to  make 
him  any  better  friends  with  the  Wali  at  a  time 
when  the  irritation  between  them  was  already  at  its 

1  Letter  from  Sir  Henry  Elliot  to  Lady  Burton,  July  ia,  1871. 
1  Blue  Book,  p.  75. 


Ube  Urue  IReasons  of  Burton's  IRecall      519 

height.  With  regard  to  what  followed,  I  think  that 
I  had  better  give  Burton's  own  words,  as  they  will 
show  very  distinctly  what  were  the  culminating  causes 
of  his  recall  : 

"  He  (the  Wali)  actually  succeeded  in  causing  the 
Foreign  Office  to  confine  me  to  Damascus  at  a  time 
when  the  climate  was  peculiarly  hot  and  unwholesome 
— mid-July.  I  was  suffering  from  fever,  and  the 
little  English  colony  was  all  in  summer  quarters.  He 
affected  to  look  upon  a  trip  to  the  Hauran  as  an 
event  pregnant  with  evil  to  his  administration,  and 
actually  composed  a  circular  from  me  to  the  Druzes. 
I  was  compelled,  in  return,  to  make  known  Rashid 
Pasha's  maladministration  of  Syria,  his  prostitution  of 
rank,  his  filling  every  post  with  his  own  sycophants, 
who  are  removed  only  when  they  have  made  money 
enough  to  pay  for  being  restored  ;  his  fatuous  elevation 
of  a  Kurdish  party ;  his  perjuries  against  the  Druzes ; 
his  persistent  persecution  of  Moslem  converts  to  Chris- 
tianity in  the  teeth  of  treaties  and  firmans  ;  his  own 
sympathy  with  the  Greeks,  and  through  them  with 
Russia  ;  and,  finally,  his  preparations  for  an  insurrection 
in  Syria,  should  Egypt  find  an  opportunity  of  declaring 
her  independence.  I  meanwhile  continued  to  push  my 
demand  for  the  six  million  piastres  claimed  by  British 
subjects  in  Syria.  My  list  shows  a  grand  total  of  eleven, 
and  of  these  five  are  important  cases.  On  July  4,  1871, 
I  wrote  to  the  Foreign  Office  and  to  the  Ambassador, 
urging  that  a  Commission  be  directed  to  inquire  into 
the  subject  and  to  settle  the  items  found  valid.  I 
expressed  a  hope  that  I  might  be  permitted  personally 


520      ttbe  TComance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 

to  superintend  the  settlement  of  these  debts,  with  whose 
every  item  the  study  of  twenty-one  months  had  made 
me  familiar,  and  another  six  months  would  have  seen 
Syria  swept  clean  and  set  in  order.  On  August  1 6,  1871, 
I  was  recalled  suddenly,  on  the  ground  that  the  Moslems 
were  fanatical  enough  to  want  my  life.  I  have  proved 
that  to  be  like  all  the  rest  of  Rashid  Pasha's  reports — 
utterly  false."1 

With  regard  to  the  reasons  given  by  Lord  Granville 
for  Burton's  recall,  I  may  say  that,  in  a  letter  which 
he  sent  under  Flying  Seal,  dated  July  22,  1871, 
and  which  reached  Burton  on  the  day  of  his  recall, 
he  recapitulated  the  dispatch  written  to  Burton  by 
Lord  Clarendon  on  his  appointment  to  Damascus, 
reminding  him  of  the  conditions  under  which  he 
was  appointed  to  the  post,  and  saying  that  the  com- 
plaints which  he  had  received  from  the  Turkish 
Government  in  regard  to  his  recent  conduct  and  pro- 
ceedings rendered  it  impossible  that  he  should  allow 
him  to  continue  to  perform  any  Consular  functions 
in  Syria,  and  requesting  him  to  make  his  prepara- 
tions for  returning  to  England  with  as  little  delay 
as  possible.2 

I  think  that  the  foregoing  statements  will  fully 
explain  the  true  reasons  which  led  to  the  recall  of 
Burton  from  Damascus.  It  will  be  seen  that  in  the 
above  charges  against  Burton  the  question  of  the 
Shazlis  does  not  enter ;  and  in  the  face  of  all  this 

1  Blue  Book,  pp.  140,  141. 

*  Vide  Letter  from  Lord  Granville  to  Captain  Burton,  under  Flying 
Seal,  care  of  Consul-General  Eldridge,  July  22,  1871  (Blue  Book, 
.p  109). 


tlbe  ZTrue  TReasons  of  3Burton's  IRecall      5*' 

evidence,  how  is  it  possible  to  maintain  that  Isabel  was 
the  true  cause  of  her  husband's  recall  ?  The  converted 
Shazlis,  whose  cause  she  is  supposed  to  have  espoused 
with  fanatical  zeal,  hardly  entered  into  the  matter  at 
all.  Indeed,  in  the  whole  of  the  Blue  Book  from 
which  I  have  quoted,  there  is  only  one  reference  to  the 
Shazlis,  and  that  is  in  a  letter  which  Burton  addressed 
to  Sir  Henry  Elliot  on  the  revival  of  Christianity 
among  them.  Miss  Stisted  says  that  Burton  was  as 
likely  to  assist  in  increasing  the  number  of  the  Syrian 
Christians,  "  of  whom  he  had  the  lowest  opinion,"  "  as 
to  join  in  a  Shakers'  dance."  Yet  in  this  letter  to  his 
official  chief  Burton  dwells  at  length  on  the  revival 
of  Christianity  in  Syria,  and  calls  attention  to  the 
persecution  and  increasing  number  of  the  converted 
Shazlis,  and  asks  for  instructions  as  to  what  he  is  to 
do.  "  The  revival,"  he  says,  "  is  progressing,"  and 
"  this  persecution,"  and  he  regards  it  in  the  "  gravest 
light."1  Also  in  a  special  letter  to  the  Protestant 
missionaries  Burton  writes : 

"  Meanwhile  I  take  the  liberty  of  recommending  to 
your  prudent  consideration  the  present  critical  state 
of  affairs  in  Syria.  A  movement  which  cannot  but 
be  characterized  as  a  revival  of  Christianity  in  the  land 
of  its  birth  seems  to  have  resulted  from  the  measures 
adopted  by  the  authorities  and  from  the  spirit  of 
inquiry  which  your  missions  have  awakened  in  the 
breasts  of  the  people.  The  new  converts  are  now 
numbered  by  thousands  :  men  of  rank  are  enrolling 

1   Vide  Letter  of  Captain  Burton  to  Sir  Henry  Elliot,  July  14,  1871 
(Blue  Book,  pp.  95,  96). 


szz      Ube  Romance  of  Isabel  %aos  Burton 

themselves  on  the  lists,  and  proselytizing  has  extended 
even  to  the  Turkish  soldiery."  l 

All  this  bears  out  Isabel's  statement  that  her 
husband  was  interested  in  the  Shazlis  ;  but,  all  the 
same,  it  does  not  enter  into  the  question  of  his  recall. 
Even  if  it  did,  so  far  from  acting  without  her  hus- 
band's consent  in  this  matter  (and  she  really  did  very 
little),  she  did  nothing  without  his  approval,  for  he 
actively  sympathized  in  the  case  of  the  Shazlis.  •  His 
letters  to  the  missionaries  and  to  Sir  Henry  Elliot 
form  proof  of  this  ;  and  in  face  of  this  documentary 
evidence  the  "  Shakers'  dance "  theory  does  not  hold 
good.  Miss  Stisted,  however,  makes  her  assertion  with- 
out any  evidence,  and  says  that  Lord  Granville  evaded 
the  main  question  when  sounded  on  the  subject  of 
Burton's  recall.  How  she  became  aware  of  the  inner 
mind  of  Lord  Granville  is  not  apparent,  and  under  the 
circumstances  dispassionate  readers  will  prefer  the  testi- 
mony of  the  Blue  Book  to  her  cool  assumption  of 
superior  knowledge.  Something  more  than  mere  asser- 
tion is  needed  to  support  a  charge  like  this. 

Equally  baseless  too  is  the  insinuation  against  Isabel 
contained  in  the  following  passage  : 

"Significant  enough  it  is  to  any  unprejudiced  reader 
that  the  next  appointment  [i.e.  of  Burton's]  was  to  a 
Roman  Catholic  country."  2 

The  u  unprejudiced  reader"  would  probably  see  the 

1  Letter  from  Captain  Burton  to  the  Rev.  E.  B.  Frankel,  Rev. 
J.  Orr  Scott,  Miss  James,  Rev.  W.  Wright,  and  Rev.  John 
Crawford,  Bludan,  July  19,  1871  (Blue  Book,  p.  92). 

'  Miss  Stisted's  Life  of  Burton,  p.  361. 


significance  in  another  light — the  significance  of  re- 
fusing to  appoint  Burton  again  to  a  Mohammedan 
country,  and  of  repeatedly  refusing  him  the  post  he 
coveted  at  Morocco. 

None  of  these  accusations  or  innuendoes  against 
Isabel  can  be  entertained  when  confronted  with  sober 
facts  ;  they  are  in  short  nothing  but  the  outcome  of 
a  jealous  imagination.  Isabel  the  cause  of  her  hus- 
band's recall,  the  ruin  of  his  career  !  She  through 
whose  interest  Burton  had  obtained  the  coveted  post 
at  Damascus  ;  she  who  fought  his  battles  for  him  all 
round  ;  she  who  shielded  him  from  the  official  dis- 
pleasure ;  she  who  obeyed  his  lightest  wish,  and  whose 
only  thought  from  morning  to  night  was  her  husband's 
welfare  and  advancement  ;  she  who  would  have  died 
for  him, — this  same  woman,  according  to  Miss  Stisted, 
deliberately  behind  her  husband's  back  ran  counter  to 
his  wishes,  fanned  the  flame  of  fanaticism,  and  brought 
about  the  crash  which  ruined  his  career  !  Was  there 
ever  a  more  improbable  charge  ?  But  the  accusation  has 
overshot  the  mark,  and,  like  the  boomerang,  it  returns 
and  injures  no  one  but  its  author. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

THE  PASSING  OF  THE   CLOUD 
(1871—1872) 

Tell  whoso  hath  sorrow 
Grief  shall  never  last : 
E'en  as  joy  hath  no  morrow, 
So  woe  shall  go  past. 

ALF  LAYLAH  WA  LAYLAH 

(Burton's  "  Arabian  Night*  "). 

"  I  ""HE  recall  from  Damascus  was  the  hardest  blow 
X  that  ever  befell  the  Burtons.  They  felt  it  acutely; 
and  when  time  had  softened  the  shock,  a  lasting  sense 
of  the  injury  that  had  been  done  to  them  remained. 
Isabel  felt  it  perhaps  even  more  keenly  than  her 
husband.  The  East  had  been  the  dream  of  her  girl- 
hood, the  land  of  her  longing  from  the  day  when  she 
and  her  lover  first  plighted  their  troth  in  the  Botanical 
Gardens,  and  the  reality  of  her  maturer  years.  But  the 
reality  had  been  all  too  short.  To  the  end  of  her  life 
she  never  ceased  to  regret  Damascus  ;  and  even  when 
in  her  widowed  loneliness  she  returned  to  England 
twenty  years  after  the  recall,  with  her  life's  work  well- 
nigh  done,  and  waiting,  as  she  used  to  say,  for  the 

524 


5*5 

"  tinkling  of  his  camel's  bell,"  her  eyes  would  glow 
and  her  voice  take  a  deeper  note  if  she  spoke  of  those 
two  years  at  Damascus.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  they 
were  the  crowning  years  of  her  life — the  years  in  which 
her  nature  had  full  play,  when  in  the  truest  sense  of  the 
term  she  may  be  said  to  have  lived.  From  the  time 
they  left  Damascus,  though  there  were  many  years  of 
happiness  and  usefulness  in  store  for  her  husband  and 
herself,  things  were  never  quite  the  same  again.  The 
recall  seems  to  mark  a  turning-point  in  her  life.  Many 
of  the  dreams  and  enthusiasms  of  her  youth  were  gone, 
though  her  life's  unfinished  work  and  stern  reality 
remained.  To  use  her  own  words,  "  Our  career  was 
broken." 

Isabel  felt  the  slur  on  her  husband  which  the  recall 
involved  more  acutely  than  he.  Burton,  though  stung 
to  the  quick  at  the  treatment  the  Foreign  Office  meted 
out  to  him  for  doing  what  he  conceived  to  be  his  duty 
(and  certainly  the  manner  of  his  recall  was  ungracious 
almost  to  the  point  of  brutality),  was  not  a  man  given 
to  show  his  feelings  to  the  world,  and  he  possessed  a 
philosophy  which  enabled  him  to  present  a  calm  and 
unmoved  front  to  the  reverses  of  fortune.  With  his 
wife  it  was  different.  She  was  not  of  a  nature  to  suffer 
in  silence,  nor  to  sit  down  quietly  under  a  wrong.  As 
she  put  it,  "Since  Richard  would  not  fight  his  own 
battles,  I  fought  them  for  him,"  and  she  never  ceased 
fighting  till  she  had  cleared  away  as  much  as  possible 
of  the  cloud  that  shadowed  her  husband's  official  career. 

On  arriving  in  London,  she  set  to  work  with  charac- 
teristic energy.  It  was  a  very  different  home-coming 


Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  JSurton 


to  the  one  she  had  anticipated.  Two  years  before 
she  had  set  out  in  the  best  of  health  and  spirits,  with 
every  prospect  of  a  long  and  prosperous  career  at 
Damascus  for  her  husband  and  herself.  Now,  almost 
without  warning,  they  had  come  home  with  their  pro- 
spects shattered  and  their  career  broken.  Nevertheless 
these  untoward  circumstances  served  in  no  way  to 
weaken  her  energies  ;  on  the  contrary,  they  seemed 
to  lend  her  strength. 

She  found  her  husband  occupying  one  room  in  an 
obscure  hotel  off  Manchester  Square,  engaged  as  usual 
with  his  writings,  and  apparently  absorbed  in  them. 
He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  such  a  place  as 
Damascus  existed.  She  found  that  he  had  accepted 
his  recall  literally.  He  had  made  no  defence  to  the 
Foreign  Office,  nor  sought  for  any  explanation.  He 
had  treated  the  affair  de  haut  en  bas,  and  had  left  things 
to  take  their  course.  He  in  fact  expressed  himself  to 
her  as  "  sick  of  the  whole  thing,"  and  he  took  the 
darkest  view  of  the  future.  u  Are  you  not  afraid  ?  " 
he  asked  her,  referring  to  their  gloomy  prospects. 
*c  Afraid?"  she  echoed.  "What,  when  I  have 
you  ?  "  This  was  the  day  she  came  back.  He  did 
not  refer  to  the  subject  again,  but  returned  to  his 
manuscripts,  and  apparently  wanted  nothing  but  to  be 
left  alone. 

But  his  wife  knew  him  better  ;  she  knew  that  deep 
down  under  his  seeming  indifference  there  was  a 
rankling  sense  of  injustice.  Her  first  step  was  to 
arouse  him  to  a  sense  of  the  position.  To  discuss 
verbally  matters  of  this  kind  with  him,  she  had  learnt 


passing  of  tbe  Clouo  52; 

by  experience,  was  not  easy  ;  so  she  wrote  to  him 
to  the  following  effect,  and  put  the  note  between  the 
leaves  of  a  book  he  was  reading  : 

"You  tell  me  you  have  no  wish  to  re-enter  official 
life.  Putting  my  own  interests  quite  out  of  the 
question,  when  there  are  so  few  able  men,  and  still 
fewer  gentlemen,  left  in  England,  and  one  cannot  help 
foreseeing  very  bad  times  coming,  it  makes  one  anxious 
and  nervous  to  think  that  the  one  man  whom  I  and 
others  regard  as  a  born  leader  of  men  should  retire 
into  private  life  just  when  he  is  most  wanted.  Now 
you  are  not  going  to  be  angry  with  me ;  you  must  be 
scolded.  You  have  fairly  earned  the  right  to  five  or  six 
months  of  domestic  happiness  and  retirement,  but  not 
the  right  to  be  selfish.  When  the  struggle  comes  on, 
instead  of  remaining,  as  you  think,  you  will  come  to 
the  fore  and  nobly  take  your  right  place.  Remember 
I  have  prophesied  three  times  for  you,  and  this  is  the 
fourth.  You  are  smarting  under  a  sense  of  injustice 
now,  and  you  talk  accordingly.  If  I  know  anything  of 
men  in  general,  and  you  in  particular,  you  will  grow 
dissatisfied  with  yourself,  if  your  present  state  of  in- 
action lasts  long." 

What  the  immediate  result  of  this  remonstrance  was  it 
is  not  possible  to  say  ;  but  Isabel's  next  move  was  to  go 
down  to  the  Foreign  Office,  where  she  was  already  well 
known  as  one  with  whom  the  usual  official  evasions  were 
of  no  avail.  She  always  called  herself  "  a  child  of  the 
Foreign  Office,"  and  she  had  many  friends  there  among 
the  permanent  officials.  She  brought  every  influence 
she  could  think  of  to  bear.  She  went  to  the  Foreign 


528      ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JSurton 

Office  day  after  day,  refusing  to  take  "No"  for  an 
answer,  until  at  last  she  simply  forced  Lord  Granville 
to  see  her  ;  and  when  he  saw  her,  she  forced  him  to  hear 
what  she  had  to  say.  The  interview  resulted  in  his 
saying  "  that  he  would  be  happy  to  consider  anything 
she  might  lay  before  him  on  the  subject  of  Captain 
Burton's  recall  from  Damascus."  He  could  hardly  have 
said  less,  and  he  could  not  well  have  said  more.  How- 
ever, she  took  him  very  promptly  at  his  word.  She 
occupied  herself  for  three  months  in  getting  up  her 
husband's  case,  and  in  inducing  him  to  consent  to  its 
being  put  clearly  before  Lord  Granville.  By  way  of 
going  to  the  root  of  the  matter  she  insisted  on  knowing 
from  the  Foreign  Office  the  true  reasons  of  his  recall. 
They  gave  her  a  long  list — the  list  set  forth  in  the 
previous  chapter.  She  answered  them  point  by  point. 
Burton  of  course  helped,  and  the  thing  was  done  in 
his  name.  The  whole  matter  was  subsequently  pub- 
lished in  the  form  of  a  Blue  Book — the  book  before 
referred  to. 

The  controversy  between  Isabel  and  the  Foreign 
Office,  if  it  can  so  be  called,  ended  in  January,  1872, 
three  months  after  her  return  to  England  ;  and  it  ter- 
minated in  a  dialectical  triumph  for  her,  and  the  offer 
of  several  small  posts  for  her  husband,  which  he  indig- 
nantly refused.  Among  others,  Burton  was  offered 
Para,  but  would  not  take  it.  "  Too  small  a  place  for 
me  after  Damascus,"  he  said. 

The  Burtons  went  into  inexpensive  lodgings,  and 
waited  tor  the  brighter  days  which  were  slow  in 
dawning.  With  characteristic  pride  and  independ- 


passing  of  tbe  Clous  5*9 

ence  they  kept  their  difficulties  to  themselves,  and 
none  knew  how  hard  their  struggle  was  at  this  time. 
The  Burtons  received  a  good  deal  of  kindness  in  the 
way  of  hospitality.  There  was  a  general  impression 
that  they  had  been  unfairly  treated  by  the  Government, 
and  their  friends  were  anxious  to  make  it  up  to  them. 
They  paid  many  pleasant  visits ;  among  others,  to  one 
of  their  kindest  friends,  Lady  Marian  Alford.  At  her 
house  they  met  Lord  Beaconsfield  ;  and  at  one  of  her 
parties,  when  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the  Duke  of 
Edinburgh  were  present,  by  request  of  the  hostess 
Burton  dressed  as  a  Bedawin  shaykh,  and  Isabel  as  a 
Moslem  woman  of  Damascus.  She  was  Supposed  to 
have  brought  the  Shaykh  over  to  introduce  him  to 
English  society  ;  and  though  many  of  those  present 
knew  Burton  quite  well,  none  of  them  recognized 
him  in  his  Arab  dress  until  he  revealed  himself. 
The  Burtons  also  attended  a  banquet  at  the  Mansion 
House,  which  interested  them  more  than  a  little;  and 
when  they  wanted  to  make  remarks — and  they  were 
in  the  habit  of  expressing  themselves  very  freely — 
they  spoke  Arabic,  thinking  no  one  would  understand 
it.  Suddenly  a  man  next  them  interrupted  their 
criticisms  by  saying  also  in  Arabic,  "  You  are  quite 
right;  I  was  just  thinking  the  same  thing":  the 
which  shows  how  careful  one  should  be  at  public 
dinners.  .  ,  4; 

Early  in  June,  1872,  Burton  sailed  for  Iceland  at  the 
request  of  a  certain  capitalist,  who  wished  to  obtain 
reports  of  some  sulphur  mines  there,  and  who  promised 
him  a  liberal  remuneration,  which  eventually  he  did 

34 


530      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  %ao£  JSurton 

not  pay.  He,  however,  paid  for  Burton's  passage  and 
travelling  expenses  ;  but  as  he  did  not  pay  for  two 
Isabel  was  unable  to  accompany  her  husband,  and 
during  his  absence  she  took  up  her  abode  with  her 
father  and  mother.  Afterwards  she  was  very  glad  that 
she  had  done  this.  For  some  time  past  the  health  of 
Mrs.  Arundell  had  given  cause  for  anxiety.  She  had 
been  a  confirmed  invalid  since  her  stroke  of  paralysis 
ten  years  before,  but  she  had  borne  up  marvellously 
until  the  last  few  months,  when  it  was  visible  to 
every  one  that  she  was  failing.  The  end  came  very 
suddenly.  Her  dearly  loved  daughter  Isabel  was  with 
her  at  the  last.  The  loss  of  her  mother,  to  whom 
she  was  devotedly  attached,  was  a  severe  blow  to  Isabel. 
Mrs.  Arundell  was  a  woman  of  strength  of  character, 
ability,  and  piety,  and  possessed  rare  qualities  of  head 
and  heart.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  the 
little  cloud  which  had  arisen  between  mother  and 
daughter  on  the  occasion  of  Isabel's  marriage  had 
long  since  passed  away  ;  indeed  it  was  of  the  briefest 
duration,  and  Mrs.  Arundell  came  to  love  Burton  as  a 
son,  and  was  very  proud  of  him. 

At  the  end  of  June,  about  ten  months  after  the  date 
of  the  recall  from  Damascus,  official  favour  smiled  upon 
the  Burtons  again.  Lord  Granville  wrote  and  asked 
Isabel  if  her  husband  would  accept  the  Consulate  of 
Trieste,  just  vacant  by  the  death  of  Charles  Lever,  the 
novelist. 

Isabel  was  praying  by  her  mother's  coffin  that  their 
troubles  might  pass  away  when  the  letter  arrived,  and 
it  came  to  her  like  an  answer  to  prayer,  for  their 


S3' 

prospects  were  just  then  at  their  gloomiest.  She  at 
once  wrote  to  her  husband  in  Iceland,  and  was  able 
soon  after  to  send  his  acceptance  of  the  post  to  Lord 
Granville. 

Trieste,  a  small  commercial  consulate,  with  £600 
a  year  salary  and  £100  office  allowance,  was  a  sad 
drop  after  Damascus,  at  £1,000  a  year  and  work  of 
a  diplomatic  order.  But  the  Burtons  could  not  afford 
to  refuse  the  offer,  for  their  needs  were  pressing,  and 
they  took  it  in  the  hope  of  better  things,  which  never 
came.  Burton  had  a  great  desire  to  become  Consul 
at  Morocco,  and  he  thought  Trieste  might  lead  thither. 
Alas  !  it  did  not ;  and  the  man  who  had  great  talents, 
a  knowledge  of  more  than  a  score  of  languages,  and 
an  unrivalled  experience  in  the  ways  of  Eastern  life 
and  oriental  methods,  was  allowed  to  drag  out  eighteen 
years  in  the  obscurity  of  a  second-rate  seaport  town, 
where  his  unique  qualifications  were  simply  thrown 
away.  He  had  had  his  chance,  and  had  lost  it.  He 
was  not  a  "  safe  man "  ;  and  England,  or  rather  the 
Government,  generally  reserves — and  wisely — the  pick 
of  the  places  in  the  public  service  for  "  safe  men." 
Officialdom  distrusts  genius — perhaps  rightly ;  and 
Burton  was  a  wayward  genius  indeed.  However,  at 
Trieste  he  could  hardly  get  into  hot  water.  The  post 
was  a  purely  commercial  one  ;  there  was  no  work 
which  called  for  any  collision  with  the  local  authorities. 
Austria,  the  land  of  red  tape,  was  very  different  to 
Syria.  There  was  no  Wali  to  quarrel  with  ;  there  were 
no  missionaries  to  offend,  no  Druzes  or  Greeks  to 
squabble  with  ;  and  though  there  were  plenty  of  Jews, 


532       ube  IRomance  of  Ssabel  Xaos  Burton 

their  money-lending  proclivities  did  not  come  within 
the  purview  of  the  British  Consul,  and  the  Austrian 
authorities  would  have  resented  in  a  moment  the 
slightest  meddling  with  their  jurisdiction.  But  if 
Burton  could  do  no  harm,  he  could  also  do  little 
good;  and  his  energies  were  cribbed,  cabined,  and  con- 
fined. On  the  other  hand,  he  was  following  at  Trieste 
a  distinguished  man  in  Charles  Lever,  and  one  who, 
like  himself,  had  literary  tastes.  It  is  impossible 
to  deny  that  Lord  Granville  showed  discrimination 
in  appointing  him  there  at  the  time.  Trieste  was 
virtually  a  sinecure  ;  the  duties  were  light,  and  every 
liberty  was  given  to  Burton.  He  was  absent  half  his 
time,  and  he  paid  a  vice-consul  to  do  most  of  his 
work,  thus  leaving  himself  ample  leisure  for  travel 
and  his  literary  labours.  If  his  lot  had  been  thrown 
in  a  more  active  sphere,  his  great  masterpiece,  Alf 
Laylah  wa  Laylah  (The  Arabian  Nights\  might  never 
have  seen  the  light. 

Isabel  and  her  husband  lost  no  time  in  making 
preparations  for  their  departure.  In  the  month  of 
September  Burton  returned  from  Iceland,  and  the  third 
week  in  October  he  left  England  for  Trieste  by  sea. 
His  wife  was  to  adhere  to  her  usual  plan  of  "  pay, 
pack,  and  follow" — to  purchase  in  London  the  usual 
stock  of  necessary  things,  and  follow  as  soon  as  might 
be  by  land. 

In  November  Isabel  crossed  the  Channel,  and  ran 
straight  through  to  Cologne.  At  Cologne  she  saw  the 
sights,  and  then  proceeded  by  easy  stages  down  the 
Rhine  to  Mayence,  and  thence  to  Frankfort.  From 


passing  ot  tbe  Cloufc  533 

Frankfort  she  went  to  Wurzburg,  where  she  called  on 
the  famous  Dr.  Dollinger.  Thence  to  Innsbruck,  and 
so  on  to  Venice.  It  was  fourteen  years  since  she  had 
visited  Venice.  The  last  occasion  was  during  the  tour 
which  she  had  taken  with  her  sister  and  brother-in-law 
before  her  marriage.  She  says  :  "  It  was  like  a  dream 
to  come  back  again.  It  was  all  there  as  I  left  it, 
even  to  the  artificial  flowers  at  the  table  d'hote  :  it  was 
just  the  same,  only  less  gay  and  brilliant.  It  had  lost 
the  Austrians  and  Henry  V.  Court.  It  was  older,  and 
all  the  friends  I  knew  were  dispersed."  Her  first  act 
was  to  send  a  telegram  to  Trieste  announcing  her 
arrival,  and  the  next  to  gondola  all  over  Venice. 
Towards  evening  she  thought  it  would  be  civil  to  call 
on  the  British  Consul,  Sir  William  Perry.  The  old  gentle- 
man, who  was  very  deaf,  and  apparently  short-sighted, 
greeted  her  kindly,  and  mumbled  something  about 
"  Captain  Burton.*'  Isabel  said,  "  Oh,  he  is  at  Trieste ; 
I  am  just  going  to  join  him."  "  No,"  said  Sir  William, 
"  he  has  just  left  me."  Thinking  he  was  rather  senile, 
she  concluded  that  he  did  not  understand,  and  bawled 
into  his  ear  for  the  third  time,  "  I  am  Mrs.  Burton,  not 
Captain  Burton,  just  arrived  from  London,  and  am  on 
my  way  to  join  my  husband  at  Trieste."  "  I  know  all 
that,"  he  said  impatiently.  "  You  had  better  come  with 
me  in  my  gondola;  I  am  just  going  to  the  Morocco  now,  a 
ship  that  will  sail  for  Trieste."  Isabel  said, tc  Certainly"; 
and  much  puzzled,  got  into  the  gondola,  and  went 
on  board.  As  soon  as  she  got  down  to  the  ship's 
saloon,  lo  !  there  was  her  husband  writing  at  a  table. 
"  Halloo  !  "  he  said  'f  "  what  the  devil  are  you  doing 


534      ^be  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JSurton 

here  ?  "  "  Halloo  !  "  she  said ;  "  what  are  you  doing 
here  ?  "  And  then  they  began  to  explain.  It  turned 
out  that  neither  of  them  had  received  the  other's  tele- 
grams or  letters. 

A  few  days  later  they  crossed  over  to  Trieste.  The 
Vice-Consul  and  the  Consular  Chaplain  came  on  board 
to  greet  them,  but  otherwise  they  arrived  at  Trieste 
without  any  ceremony ;  in  fact,  so  unconventional  was 
their  method  of  arrival,  that  it  was  rumoured  in  the 
select  circles  of  the  town  that  "Captain  Burton,  the 
new  Consul,  and  Mrs.  Burton  took  up  their  quarters  at 
the  Hotel  de  la  Ville,  he  walking  along  with  his  game- 
cock under  his  arm,  and  she  with  her  bull-terrier  under 
hers."  It  was  felt  that  they  must  be  a  very  odd  couple, 
and  they  were  looked  at  rather  askance.  This  distrust 
was  probably  reciprocated,  for  at  first  both  Isabel  and 
her  husband  felt  like  fish  out  of  water,  and  did  not  like 
Trieste  at  all. 


CHAPTER  XX 

EARLY   YEARS  AT   TRIESTE 
(1872—1875) 

Turn  thee  from  griet  nor  care  a  jot, 
Commit  thy  needs  to  fate  and  lot, 
Enjoy  the  present  passing  well, 
And  let  the  past  be  clean  forgot. 
For  what  so  haply  seemeth  worse 
Shall  work  thy  weal  as  Allah  wot; 
Allah  shall  do  whate'er  he  will, 
And  in  his  will  oppose  him  not. 

ALF  LAYLAH  WA  LAYLAH 

(Burton's  "Arabian  Nights"). 

T  SABEL  soon  began  to  like  Trieste  ;  the  place  grew 
JL    upon  her,  and  later  she  always  spoke  of  it  as  "  my 

beloved  Trieste."     She  has  left  on  record  in  her  journal 

her  early  impressions  : 

"  Trieste  is  a  town  of  threes.  It  has  three  quarters  : 
the  oldest,  Citta  Vecchia,  is  filthy  and  antiquated  in  the 
extreme.  It  has  three  winds  :  the  bora,  the  winter 
wind,  cold,  dry,  highly  electrical,  very  exciting,  and  so 
violent  that  sometimes  the  quays  are  roped,  and  some 
of  the  walls  have  iron  rails  let  in,  to  prevent  people 
being  blown  into  the  sea  ;  the  sirocco,  the  summer  wind, 

535 


536       TTbe  TRcmiance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

straight  from  Africa,  wet,  warm,  and  debilitating  ;  and 
the  contrast e,  which  means  the  two  blowing  at  once  and 
against  each  other,  with  all  the  disadvantages  of  both. 
It  has  three  races :  Italians,  Austrians,  and  Slavs.  They 
are  all  ready  to  cut  each  other's  throats,  especially 
the  Italians  and  the  Austrians  ;  and  the  result  is  that 
Trieste,  wealthy  though  she  is,  wants  all  modern  im- 
provements, simply  because  the  two  rival  parties  act 
like  the  two  bundles  of  hay  in  the  fable,  and  between 
them  the  ass  starves.  North  of  Ponte  Rosso  is  Ger- 
mania,  or  the  Austrian  colony,  composed  of  the 
authorities,  the  employes,  and  a  few  wealthy  merchants, 
who  have  a  crazy  idea  of  Germanizing  their  little  world, 
an  impossible  dream,  for  there  are  twelve  thousand 
Italians  in  Trieste,  who  speak  a  sort  of  corrupted 
Venetian.  One  thousand  of  these  are  very  rich,  the 
others  very  poor.  However,  whether  rich  or  poor, 
the  Italianisnmi  hate  their  Austrian  rulers  like  poison  ; 
and' in  this  hatred  they  are  joined  by  the  mass  of  the 
wealthy  Israelites,  who  divide  the  commerce  with  the 
Greeks.  The  wealthy  Italianissimi  subscribe  hand- 
somely to  every  Italian  charity  and  movement,  and 
periodically  and  anonymously  memorialize  the  King 
of  Italy.  The  poor  take  a  delight  in  throwing  large 
squibs,  called  by  courtesy  '  torpedoes,'  amongst  the 
unpatriotic  petticoats  who  dare  to  throng  the  Austrian 
balls;  for  though  Trieste  is  Austrian  nominally,  it  is 
Italian  at  heart.  The  feud  between  the  Italians  and 
the  Austrians  goes  to  spoil  society  in  Trieste  ;  they 
will  not  intermingle.  The  Slavs  also  form  a  distinct 
party. 


l^ears  at  Trieste  537 

"I  found  these  discordant  elements  a  little  difficult 
to  harmonize  at  first.  But  Richard  desired  me  to  form 
a  neutral  house,  as  at  Damascus,  where  politics  and 
religion  should  never  be  mentioned,  and  where  all  might 
meet  on  a  common  ground.  I  did  so,  with  the  result 
that  we  had  friends  in  all  camps.  There  was  an 
abundance  of  society  of  all  kinds :  Austrian,  Italian, 
and  what  Ouida  has  called  the  haute  Juiverie.  We 
were  in  touch  with  them  all,  and  they  were  all 
good-natured  and  amiable.  Society  in  Trieste  did  not 
care  whether  you  were  rich  or  poor,  whether  you 
received  or  did  not  receive  ;  it  only  asked  you  to  be 
nice,  and  it  opened  its  arms  to  you.  I  dare  say  my 
visiting  list,  private  and  consular,  comprised  three 
hundred  families ;  but  we  had  our  own  little  clique 
intime,  which  was  quite  charming,  and  included  some 
sixty  or  seventy  persons. 

"  We  women  had  what  Richard  used  to  call  (  hen 
parties '  (Kaffee  gesellschafi},  which  is  really  five  o'clock 
tea,  where  we  would  dance  together,  play,  sing,  recite, 
and  have  refreshments  ;  but  a  man,  except  the  master 
of  the  house,  was  never  seen  at  these  gatherings.  En 
revanche,  we  had  plenty  of  evening  entertainments  for 
both  sexes. 

"Some  curious  little  local  customs  still  lingered  at 
Trieste.  One  of  them  was,  when  two  friends  or 
relations  met  in  society,  after  embracing  affectionately, 
they  were  wont  to  drop  one  another  an  elaborate 
curtsey.  The  visiting  hours  were  from  twelve  till 
two,  an  impossible  time  ;  and  men  were  expected  to 
call  in  white  cravats,  kid  gloves  and  evening  dress. 


538       Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JSurton 

When  I  first  came  to  Trieste,  I  was  often  invited  en 
intime  to  afternoon  tea,  and  was  told  to  come  'just  as 
you  are,  my  dear.'  I  took  the  invitation  literally 
of  course  ;  and  when  I  arrived,  I  used  to  find  the 
other  ladies  decolletees,  and  blazing  with  diamonds.  I 
remember  feeling  very  awkward  at  appearing  in  an 
ordinary  costume,  but  my  hostess  said  to  me,  *  You 
know,  my  dear,  we  are  so  fond  of  our  jewels  ;  it  gives 
us  pleasure  to  dress  even  for  one  another ;  but  do  not 
do  it  if  it  bores  you.'  However,  later  I  always  took 
care  to  do  it,  on  the  principle  that  when  one  is  at 
Rome  one  should  do  as  Rome  does.  Apart  from  these 
little  social  peculiarities  Trieste  was  the  most  hospit- 
able and  open-hearted  town,  and  people  entertained 
there,  if  they  entertained  at  all,  on  a  lavish  scale 
and  right  royally. 

"The  population  of  Trieste  was  very  interesting, 
though  a  strange  medley.  To  the  east  of  the  town 
the  Wallachian  cici,  or  charcoal-dealers,  wore  the 
dress  of  the  old  Danubian  homes  whence  they  came. 
Then  there  was  the  Friulano,  with  his  velvet  jacket 
and  green  corduroys  (the  most  estimable  race  in 
Trieste).  He  was  often  a  roaster  of  chestnuts  at  the 
corners  of  the  street,  and  his  wife  was  the  best  balie 
(wet  nurse).  She  was  often  more  bravely  attired  than 
her  mistress.  The  Slav  market-women  were  also  very 
interesting.  I  loved  to  go  down  and  talk  with  them 
in  the  market-place.  They  drove  in  from  neighbouring 
villages  with  their  produce  for  sale  in  a  kind  of  drosky, 
the  carretella  as  it  was  called,  with  its  single  pony 
harnessed  to  the  near  side  of  the  pole.  Some  of  the 


H>ears  at  Trieste  539 

girls,  especially  those  of  Servola,  were  quite  beautiful, 
with  a  Greek  profile,  and  a  general  delicacy  of  form 
and  colour  which  one  would  hardly  expect  to  find 
amongst  the  peasantry.  But  their  eyes  were  colourless  ; 
and  their  blonde  hair  was  like  tow — it  lacked  the  golden 
ray.  The  dresses  were  picturesque  :  a  white  triangular 
head-kerchief,  with  embroidered  ends  hanging  down 
the  back  ;  a  bodice  either  of  white  flannel  picked  out 
with  splashes  of  colour,  or  of  a  black  glazed  and  plaited 
stuff;  a  skirt  of  lively  hue,  edged  with  a  broad  belt  of 
even  livelier  green,  blue,  pink,  or  yellow;  white  stockings; 
and  short,  stout  shoes.  The  ornaments  on  high  days 
and  holidays  were  gold  necklaces  and  crosses,  a  pro- 
fusion of  rings  and  pendants.  This  of  course  was 
the  contadina,  or  peasant  girl.  Opposed  to  her  was 
the  sartorella,  or  little  tailoress,  which  may  be  said  to 
be  synonymous  with  the  French  grisette.  I  always 
called  Trieste  //  Paradiso  delle  Sartorelle,  because  the 
sartorella  was  a  prominent  figure  in  Trieste,  and  For- 
tune's favourite.  She  was  wont  to  fill  the  streets  and 
promenades,  especially  on  festa  days,  dressed  a  quatre 
epingles,  powdered  and  rouged  and  coiffee  as  for  a  ball, 
and  with  or  without  a  veil.  She  was  often  pretty,  and 
generally  had  a  good  figure  ;  but  she  did  not  always 
look  c  nice '  ;  and  her  manners,  to  put  it  mildly,  were 
very  degagees.  There  were  four  thousand  of  these  girls 
in  Trieste,  and  they  filled  the  lower-class  balls  and 
theatres.  There  was  a  sartorella  in  every  house,  off 
and  on.  For  example,  a  family  in  Trieste  always  had 
a  dress  to  make  or  a  petticoat,  and  the  sartorella  came 
for  a  florin  a  day  and  her  food,  and  she  worked  for 


540      ftbe  "Romance  ot  Isabel  Xafcs  burton 


twelve  hours,  leaving  off  work  at  six,  when  she  began 
her  '  evening  out.'  I  am  fain  to  add  the  sartorella  was 
often  a  sort  of  whited  sepulchre.  She  was  gorgeously 
clad  without,  but  as  a  rule  had  not  a  rag,  not  even  a 
chemise,  underneath,  unless  she  were  '  in  luck.'  '  In 
luck,'  I  grieve  to  say,  meant  that  every  boy,  youth, 
and  man  in  Trieste,  beginning  at  twelve  and  up  to 
twenty-five  and  twenty-eight,  had  an  affaire  with  a 
sartorella  ;  and  I  may  safely  assert,  without  being 
malicious,  that  she  was  not  wont  to  give  her  heart  —  if 
we  may  call  it  so  —  gratis.  She  was  rather  a  nuisance 
in  a  house  ;  though  after  I  had  been  in  Trieste  a  little 
while  I  discovered  that  she  was  an  indispensable  nuisance, 
because  there  was  always  some  mending  or  sewing  to 
be  done.  She  generally  turned  the  servants'  heads  by 
telling  them  that  she  was  going  to  be  married  to  a  real 
graf  (count)  as  soon  as  he  was  independent  of  his 
parents  —  a  sort  of  King  Cophetua  and  the  Beggar 
Maid  over  again,  I  suppose. 

"  Trieste  was  a  beautiful  place,  especially  the  view 
round  our  bay.  The  hills  were  covered  with  woodland 
and  verdure  ;  the  deep  blue  Adriatic  was  in  the  fore- 
ground, dotted  with  lateen  sails  ;  and  the  town  filled 
the  valley  and  straggled  up  the  slopes.  The  sky  was 
softly  blue  on  a  balmy  day  ;  the  bees  and  birds,  the  hum 
of  insects,  the  flowers  and  fresh  air,  and  the  pretty, 
animated  peasants,  combined  to  form  a  picture  which 
made  one  feel  glad  to  live. 

"  The  charm  of  Trieste  is  that  one  can  live  exactly  as 
one  pleases.  Richard  and  I  drew  out  a  line  for  our- 
selves when  we  first  went  to  Trieste,  and  we  always 


Earl£  liJears  at  Trieste  541 

kept  to  it  as  closely  as  we  could.  We  rose  at  3  or 
4  a.m.  in  summer,  and  at  5  a.m.  in  winter.  He  read, 
wrote,  and  studied  all  day  out  of  consular  hours,  and 
took  occasional  trips  for  his  health  ;  and  I  learned 
Italian,  German,  and  singing,  and  attended  to  my  other 
duties.  We  took  our  daily  exercise  in  the  shape  of  an 
hour's  swimming  in  the  sea,  or  fencing  at  the  school, 
according  to  the  weather.  What  with  reading,  writing, 
looking  after  the  poor,  working  for  the  Church  or  for 
the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals, 
my  day  was  all  too  short. 

"  The  prettiest  thing  in  Trieste  was  the  swimming 
school.  It  was  moored  out  at  the  entrance  to  the 
harbour.  We  used  to  reach  it  in  a  boat,  and  get  hold 
of  Tonina,  the  old  woman  who  provided  us  with  the 
camerino,  or  little  stall  to  undress  in,  and  who  would 
grin  from  ear  to  ear  at  our  chaff  and  the  thought  of  her 
bakshish.  The  women's  costumes  were  short  trousers, 
with  bodice  or  belt  of  blue  serge  or  white  alpaca  trimmed 
with  red.  We  plunged  into  the  great  vasca,  or  basin, 
an  acre  of  sea,  bottomless,  but  enclosed  on  all  sides  with 
a  loaded  net,  to  keep  out  the  sharks.  There  were  twelve 
soldiers  to  teach  beginners.  They  used  to  begin  with  a 
pole  and  rope,  like  a  fishing-rod  and  line,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  rope  was  a  broad  belt,  which  went  round  the  waist 
of  the  beginner,  and  you  heard  the  incessant  '  Eins, 
zwei,  drei  '  of  the  drill.  Next  they  would  lead  the 
beginners  round  the  edge  of  the  basin  with  a  rope,  like 
pet  dogs.  But  we  adepts  in  swimming  plunged  in  head 
first  from  a  sort  of  trapeze,  or  from  the  roofs  of  the 
dressing-rooms,  making  a  somersault  on  the  way. 


542      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcs  JBurton 

The  swimmers  did  the  prettiest  tricks  in  the  water. 
Young  married  women  met  in  the  middle  to  shake 
hands  and  hold  long  conversations.  Scores  of  young 
girls  used  to  romp  about,  ducking  each  other  under 
and  climbing  on  each  other's  backs  for  support,  and 
children  of  three  or  four  used  to  swim  about  like  white- 
bait, in  and  out,  among  us  all.  One  stout  old  lady  used 
to  sit  lazily  in  the  water,  like  a  blubber  fish,  knitting, 
occasionally  moving  her  feet.  We  used  to  call  her 
'  the  buoy,'  and  hold  on  to  her  when  we  were  tired." 

It  was  the  custom  of  Isabel  and  her  husband,  when- 
ever they  went  to  a  new  place,  to  look  out  for  a  sort 
of  sanatorium,  to  which  they  might  repair  when  they 
wanted  a  change  or  were  seedy  or  out  of  sorts.  Thus, 
when  Burton  was  sent  to  Santos,  they  chose  Sao  Paulo ; 
when  they  were  at  Damascus,  they  pitched  on  Bludan; 
and  as  soon  as  they  arrived  at  Trieste,  they  lighted  upon 
Opcjna.  Opcjna  was  a  Slav  village  high  above  Trieste, 
and  about  an  hour's  drive  from  it.  This  height  showed 
Trieste  and  the  Adriatic  spread  out  like  a  map  below, 
with  hill  and  valley  and  dale  waning  faintly  blue  in 
the  distance,  and  far  away  the  Carnian  Alps  topped 
with  snow.  There  was  an  old  inn  called  Daneu's,  close 
to  an  obelisk.  They  took  partly  furnished  rooms,  and 
brought  up  some  of  their  own  furniture  to  make  up 
deficiencies  and  give  the  place  a  homelike  air.  It  was 
their  wont  to  come  up  to  Opcjna  from  Saturday  to 
Monday,  and  get  away  from  Trieste  and  worries. 
They  always  kept  some  literary  work  on  hand  there; 
and  sometimes,  if  they  were  in  the  mood  for  it,  they 


HJears  at  Trieste  543 

would  stay  at  Op^ina  for  six  weeks  on  end.  The 
climate  was  very  bracing. 

Isabel  always  looked  back  on  these  few  first  years  at 
Trieste  as  pleasant  ones.  After  the  storm  and  stress  of 
Damascus,  and  the  anxiety  and  depression  consequent 
upon  their  recall,  she  found  Trieste  a  veritable  "  rest- 
ful harbour."  They  varied  their  life  by  many  journeys 
and  excursions.  Their  happy  hunting-ground  was 
Venice.  Whenever  they  could  they  would  cross  over 
there,  order  a  gondola,  and  float  lazily  about  the  canals. 
She  says  of  this  time  :  "  We  lived  absolutely  the  jolly 
life  of  two  bachelors,  as  it  might  be  an  elder  or  a 
younger  brother.  When  we  wanted  to  go  away,  we 
just  turned  the  key  and  left." 

It  was  not  until  they  had  been  at  Trieste  six  months 
that  they  settled  down  in  a  house,  or  rather  in  a  flat  at 
the  top  of  a  large  building  close  to  the  sea.  They 
began  their  housekeeping  with  very  modest  ideas  ;  in 
fact,  they  had  only  six  rooms.  But  Burton  and  his  wife 
were  fond  of  enlarging  their  boundaries,  and  in  course 
of  time  these  six  rooms  grew  until  they  ran  round  the 
whole  of  the  large  block  of  the  building.  Here  they 
lived  for  ten  years,  and  then  they  moved  to  the  most 
beautiful  house  in  Trieste,  a  palazzo  a  little  way  out  of 
the  town. 

One  of  their  first  expeditions  was  to  Loretto.  Thence 
they  went  to  Rome,  where  they  made  the  acquaintance 
of  the  English  Ambassador  to  the  Austrian  Court  and 
his  wife,  Sir  Augustus  and  Lady  Paget,  with  whom  they 
remained  great  friends  all  the  time  they  were  at  Trieste. 
Isabel  also  met  Cardinal  Howard,  who  was  a  cousin  of 


544       3be  TRomance  ot  Isabel  Xafcg  JSurton 

hers.  He  was  one  of  her  favourite  partners  in  the 
palmy  days  of  Almack's,  when  he  was  an  officer  in 
the  Guards  and  she  was  a  girl.  Now  the  whirligig  of 
time  had  transformed  him  into  a  cardinal  and  her  into 
the  wife  of  the  British  Consul  at  Trieste.  As  a  devout 
Catholic  Isabel  delighted  in  Rome  and  its  churches, 
though  the  places  which  she  most  enjoyed  visiting  were 
the  Catacombs  and  the  Baths  of  Caracalla.  At  Rome 
she  got  blood-poisoning  and  fever,  which  she  took 
on  with  her  to  Florence,  where  they  stayed  for  some 
little  time.  At  Florence  they  saw  a  good  deal  of 
Ouida,  whom  they  had  known  for  some  years.  From 
Florence  they  went  to  Venice,  crossed  over  to  Trieste 
just  to  change  their  baggage,  and  then  proceeded  to 
Vienna.  There  was  a  great  Exhibition  going  on  at 
Vienna,  and  Burton  went  as  the  reporter  to  some 
newspaper.  They  were  at  Vienna  three  weeks,  and 
were  delighted  with  everything  Viennese  except  the 
prices  at  the  hotel,  which  were  stupendous.  They 
enjoyed  themselves  greatly,  and  were  well  received  in 
what  is  perhaps  the  most  exclusive  society  in  Europe. 
Among  other  things  they  went  to  Court.  Isabel 
attended  as  an  Austrian  countess,  and  took  place  and 
precedence  accordingly,  for  the  name  Arundell  of 
Wardour  is  inscribed  in  the  Austrian  official  lists  of 
the  Counts  of  the  Empire.  There  was  a  difficulty 
raised  about  Burton,  because  consuls  are  not  admissible 
at  the  Court  of  Vienna.  Isabel  was  not  a  woman  to  go 
to  places  where  her  husband  was  not  admitted,  and  she 
insisted  upon  having  the  matter  brought  before  the 
notice  of  the  Emperor,  though  the  British  Embassy 


Earlg  H)ears  at  Trieste  545 

clearly  told  her  the  thing  was  impossible — Burton  could 
not  be  admitted.  When  the  Emperor  heard  of  the 
difficulty  through  the  Court  officials,  he  at  once  solved 
it  by  saying  that  Burton  might  attend  as  an  officer  of 
the  English  army.  The  incident  is  a  trifling  one,  but 
it  is  one  more  illustration  of  the  untiring  devotion  of 
Isabel  to  her  husband,  and  her  sleepless  vigilance  that 
nothing  should  be  done  which  would  seem  to  cast  a  slur 
upon  his  position.1 

1  Lady  Burton  thus  describes  her  visit  to  the  Austrian  Court: 
"  I  was  very  much  dazzled  by  the  Court.  I  thought  everything  was 
beautifully  done,  so  arranged  as  to  give  every  one  pleasure,  and  some- 
how it  was  the  graciousness  that  was  in  itself  a  welcome.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  first  night  that  I  saw  the  Empress — a  vision  of 
beauty,  clothed  in  silver,  crowned  with  water-lilies,  with  large  rows  of 
diamonds  and  emeralds  round  her  small  head  and  her  beautiful  hair, 
and  descending  all  down  her  dress  in  festoons.  The  throne-room 
is  immense,  with  marble  columns  down  each  side — all  the  men 
arranged  on  one  side  and  all  the  women  on  the  other,  and  the  new 
presentations  with  their  ambassadors  and  ambassadresses  nearest 
the  throne.  When  the  Emperor  and  Empress  came  in,  they  walked 
up  the  middle,  the  Empress  curtseying  most  gracefully  and  smiling 
a  general  gracious  greeting.  They  then  ascended  the  throne,  and 
presently  the  Empress  turned  to  our  side.  The  presentations  first 
took  place,  and  she  spoke  to  each  one  in  her  own  language,  and  on 
her  own  particular  subject.  I  was  quite  entranced  with  her  beauty, 
her  cleverness,  and  her  conversation.  She  passed  down  the  ladies' 
side,  and  then  came  up  that  of  the  men,  the  Emperor  doing  exactly 
the  same  as  she  had  done.  He  also  spoke  to  us.  Then  some  few 
of  us  whose  families  the  Empress  knew  about  were  asked  to  sit 
down,  and  refreshments  were  handed  to  us — the  present  Georgina 
Lady  Dudley  sitting  by  the  Empress.  It  was  a  thing  never  to  be 
forgotten  to  have  seen  those  two  beautiful  women  sitting  side  by 
side.  The  Empress  Frederick  of  Germany — Crown  Princess  she  was 
then — was  also  there,  and  sent  for  some  of  us  on  another  day,  which 
was  in  many  ways  another  memorable  event,  and  her  husband  also 
came  in  "  (Life  of  Sir  Richard  Burton,  by  Isabel  his  wife,  vol.  ii., 
pp.  24,  25). 

35 


546      ;rbe  "Romance  of  Ssabel  Xaog  JSurton 

When  the  Burtons  returned  to  Trieste,  Charles 
Tyrwhitt-Drake,  who  had  been  with  them  much  at 
Damascus,  and  had  accompanied  them  on  their  tour 
in  the  Holy  Land  and  many  other  journeys  in  the 
Syrian  Desert,  arrived.  The  visit  of  their  friend  and 
fellow-traveller  seemed  to  revive  their  old  love  of 
exploration  as  far  as  the  limits  of  Trieste  would  admit, 
and  among  other  excursions  they  went  to  see  a  great 
fete  at  the  Adelsberg  Caves.  These  caves  were  stalactite 
caverns  and  grottoes  not  far  from  Trieste,  and  on  the 
day  of  the  fete  they  were  lighted  by  a  million  candles. 
One  of  the  caverns  was  a  large  hall  like  a  domed  ball- 
room, and  Austrian  bands  and  musicians  repaired  thither, 
and  the  peasants  flocked  down  from  the  surrounding 
villages  in  their  costumes,  and  made  high  revelry. 
Burton  maintained  that  these  caves  were  the  eighth 
wonder  of  the  world,  but  the  description  of  them  here 
would  occupy  too  much  space.  Suffice  it  to  say,  in 
the  words  of  Isabel,  "  When  God  Almighty  had  finished 
making  the  earth,  He  threw  all  the  superfluous  rocks 
together  there."  From  these  caves  they  went  to  Fiume, 
and  explored  the  Colosseum  there,  which,  though  not 
so  famous  as  that  of  Rome,  almost  rivals  it  in  its  ruins 
and  its  interest.  Another  excursion  was  to  Lipizza,  the 
Emperor  of  Austria's  stud  farm.  It  was  about  two 
hours  from  Trieste,  and  the  stables  and  park  were  full 
of  herds  of  thorough-bred  mares,  chiefly  Hungarians 
and  Croats.  Lipizza  was  always  a  favourite  drive  of 
the  Burtons. 

"  Charley's "  visit  revived  many  memories  of 
Damascus,  and  he  was  the  bearer  of  news  from  many 


JEarlg  J2ears  at  Trieste  547 

friends  there.  He  seemed  to  bring  with  him  "  a  breath 
from  the  desert,"  and  they  were  loath  to  let  him  go. 
They  accompanied  him  to  Venice,  where  he  took  his 
leave  of  them;  and  they  never  saw  him  again.  He  died 
the  following  year  at  Jerusalem,  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
eight.  He  was  buried  in  the  English  burial-ground 
on  Mount  Zion,  the  place  where  they  had  all  three  sat 
and  talked  together  and  picked  flowers  one  afternoon 
three  years  before.  It  was  largely  at  his  suggestion 
that  Isabel  determined  to  write  her  Inner  Life  of  Syria, 
and  she  unearthed  her  note-books  and  began  to  write  the 
book  soon  after  he  left.  He  was  a  great  friend,  almost 
a  son  to  them,  and  they  both  felt  his  loss  bitterly. 

About  this  time  Maria  Theresa,  Contessa  de  Montelin, 
ex-Queen  of  Spain,  when  she  was  on  her  death-bed,  sent 
for  Isabel,  and  charged  her  to  keep  up,  maintain,  and 
promote  certain  pious  societies  which  she  had  started 
in  Trieste.  One  of  these  was  "The  Apostleship  of 
Prayer,"  whose  members,  women,  were  to  be  active 
in  doing  good  works,  corporally  and  spiritually,  in 
Trieste.  This  guild  was  one  of  two  good  works  to 
which  Isabel  chiefly  devoted  herself  during  her  life 
at  Trieste.  The  other  was  a  branch  of  the  Society  for 
the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals  and  the  care  of 
animals  generally,  a  subject  always  very  near  her  heart. 
"  The  Apostleship  of  Prayer,"  the  legacy  of  the  ex- 
Queen  of  Spain,  so  grew  under  Isabel's  hand  that  the 
members  increased  to  fifteen  thousand.  They  elected 
her  president,  and  she  soon  got  the  guild  into  thorough 
working  order,  dividing  the  members  into  bands  in 
various  quarters  of  the  city  of  Trieste. 


548      Ube  fRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

There  is  not  much  to  relate  concerning  Isabel's  life 
at  Trieste  for  the  first  few  years.  It  was  uneventful 
and  fairly  happy  :  it  would  have  been  quite  happy,  were 
it  not  for  the  regret  of  Damascus,  where  they  were  then 
hoping  to  return,  and  the  desire  for  a  wider  sphere  of 
action.  Both  she  and  her  husband  managed  to  keep  in 
touch  with  the  world  in  a  wonderful  way,  and  did  not  let 
themselves  drop  out  of  sight  or  out  of  mind.  One  of 
the  reliefs  to  the  monotony  of  their  existence  was  that, 
whenever  an  English  ship  came  into  port  with  a 
captain  whom  they  knew,  they  would  dine  on  board 
and  have  the  delight  of  seeing  English  people,  and 
they  generally  invited  the  captain  and  officers  and  the 
best  passengers  back  again.  The  Burtons  had  a  good 
many  visitors  from  England,  most  of  them  well-known 
personages,  who,  when  they  stopped  at  Trieste,  a 
favourite  resting-place  for  birds  of  passage,  always 
made  a  point  of  calling  upon  them.  Among  others 
was  Lord  LlandafF,  then  Mr.  Henry  Matthews,  who 
had  many  things  in  common  with  Isabel.  Owing  to 
their  lives  being  cast  on  different  lines,  they  only  saw 
one  another  at  intervals,  but  they  always  entertained  a 
feeling  of  mutual  friendship.  From  the  many  letters 
he  wrote  to  her  I  am  permitted  to  publish  this  one  : 

"  TEMPLE,  December  28,  1875. 

"DEAR  MRS.  BURTON, 

"  Of  course  I  have  not  forgotten  you.  I  never 
forget.  Was  it  last  week,  or  sixteen  years  ago,  that 
you  were  standing  in  this  room  with  the  chequered 
sunlight  shining  through  the  Venetian  blind  upon  you, 


Barlg  12ear8  at  Trieste  549 

as  you  discoursed  about   Heaven   and    Grace  and   an 
attorney  in  the  City  who  was  not  one  of  the  elect  ? 

"  I  never  knew  you  were  in  Venice  this  autumn,  and, 
as  it  happened,  it  was  fortunate  I  did  not  go  to  Trieste 
to  see  you,  since  you  were  away.  I  grieve  very  much 
to  hear  of  your  bad  health.  It  seems  to  me  you  do  too 
much.  The  long  list  of  occupations  which  you  call 
f  repose  '  is  enough  to  wear  out  any  constitution,  even 
one  which  is  so  admirably  knit  as  yours.  Don't  be  like 
the  lady  in  Pope's  satire,  and  *  die  of  nothing  but  a 
rage  to  live.'  There  is  one  part  of  your  labours,  how- 
ever, for  which  I,  with  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  shall  be 
thankful;  and  that  is  your  new  book.  I  shall  look  for 
it  with  impatience,  and  feel  sure  of  its  success. 

"  I  wish  you  were  not  going  to  Arabia ;  but  I  know 
how  you  understand  and  fulfil  the  part  of  wife  to  a 
knight-errant  of  discovery.  Be  as  prudent  and  sparing 
of  yourself  as  you  can. 

"Yours  ever, 

"  HENRY  MATTHEWS." 

Atter  they  had  been  at  Trieste  two  years,  at  the  end 
of  1874  Burton  proposed  that  his  wife  should  go  to 
England  and  transact  some  business  for  him,  and  bring 
out  certain  books  which  he  had  written.  He  would 
join  her  later  on.  Isabel  was  exceedingly  unwilling  to 
go  ;  but  "  whenever  he  put  his  foot  down  I  had  to  do 
it,  whether  I  would  or  no."  So  she  went,  and  arrived 
in  London  in  December,  after  an  uneventful  journey. 

Isabel  found  her  work  cut  out  for  her  in  London. 
Her  husband  had  given  her  several  pages  of  directions, 


55<>      tlbe  TComance  of  -Jsabel  Xaog  Burton 

and  she  tried  to  carry  them  out  as  literally  as  possible. 
She  had  to  see  a  number  of  publishers  for  one  thing, 
and  to  work  up  an  interest  in  a  sulphur  mine  for 
another.  She  says  :  "  I  got  so  wrapped  up  in  my  work  at 
this  time  that  sometimes  I  worked  for  thirteen  hours  a 
day,  and  would  forget  to  eat.  I  can  remember  once, 
after  working  for  thirteen  hours,  feeling  my  head 
whirling,  and  being  quite  alarmed.  Then  I  suddenly  re- 
membered that  I  had  forgotten  to  eat  all  day."  She  had 
also  the  proof-sheets  to  correct  of  her  own  book,  which 
was  going  through  the  press.  She  was  in  London  with- 
out her  husband  for  four  months,  and  during  that  time 
she  had  a  great  shock.  A  paragraph  appeared  in  The 
Scotsman  announcing  Burton's  death,  and  speaking  of 
her  as  his  widow.  She  telegraphed  to  Trieste  at  once, 
and  packed  up.  Just  as  she  was  starting  she  got  a 
telegram  from  him  saying,  "  I  am  eating  a  very  good 
dinner  at  table  d'hote" 

Early  in  May  Burton  joined  her  on  a  lengthy  leave 
of  absence,  and  they  did  a  great  deal  of  visiting,  and 
enjoyed  themselves  generally.  Isabel's  Inner  Life  of 
Syria  was  published  at  this  time,  and  she  was  very 
anxious  about  it.  It  had  taken  sixteen  months  to 
write.  The  evening  of  the  day  on  which  it  made  its 
appearance  she  went  to  a  party,  and  the  first  person 
she  saw  whom  she  knew  was  a  well-known  editor,  who 
greeted  her  with  warm  congratulations  on  her  book. 
She  says,  "  It  made  me  as  happy  as  if  somebody  had 
given  me  a  fortune." 

The  favourable  reception  which  was  accorded  to  The 
Inner  Life  of  Syria,  which  was  largely  devoted  to  a 


the  portrait  by  the  late  Lord  Leighton, 


Barlg  liJears  at  TTrieste  55 x 

defence  of  her  husband's  action  when  Consul  at 
Damascus,  encouraged  Isabel  to  proceed  further  on  his 
behalf.  So  she  wrote  to,  or  interviewed,  every  influ- 
ential friend  she  knew,  with  a  view  of  inducing  the 
Government  to  make  Burton  K.C.B.,  and  she  prepared 
a  paper  setting  forth  his  claims  and  labours  in  the  public 
service,  which  was  signed  by  thirty  or  forty  of  the  most 
influential  personages  of  the  day.  She  also  induced 
them  to  ask  that  Burton  should  either  return  to 
Damascus,  or  be  promoted  to  Morocco,  Cairo,  Tunis, 
or  Teheran.  Unfortunately  her  efforts  met  with 
no  success,  though  she  renewed  them  again  through 
another  source  three  years  later.  In  one  sense,  how- 
ever, she  succeeded ;  for  though  she  could  not  convert 
the  Government  to  her  view,  the  press  unanimously 
took  up  the  cause  of  Burton,  and  complained  that  the 
Government  did  not  give  him  his  proper  place  in 
official  life,  and  called  him  the  "neglected Englishman." 
As  for  Burton  himself,  he  took  no  part  in  this  agitation, 
except  to  thank  his  friends  and  the  press  generally  for 
their  exertions  on  his  behalf. 

They  went  down  to  Oxford  at  Commemoration  to 
visit  Professor  Jowett  and  others.  At  Oxford  they 
met  with  an  ovation.  In  London  they  passed  a  very 
pleasant  season,  for  private  personages  seemed  anxious 
to  make  up  for  official  neglect.  This  year  Frederick 
Leighton's  famous  picture  of  Burton  was  exhibited  in 
the  Royal  Academy.  Among  other  celebrated  people 
whom  they  met  was  Mr.  Gladstone,  at  Lord  Houghton's. 
Of  Burton's  meeting  with  Mr.  Gladstone  Isabel  relates 
the  following :  "  Very  late  in  the  evening  Mrs.  Gladstone 


552      Ube  IRomance  of  Ssabel  Xaoy  Burton 

said  to  me,  f  I  don't  know  what  it  is ;  I  cannot  get 
Mr.  Gladstone  away  this  evening  ';  and  I  said  to  her, '  I 
think  I  know  what  it  is ;  he  has  got  hold  of  my  husband, 
Richard  Burton,  and  they  are  both  so  interested  in  one 
another,  and  have  so  many  points  of  interest  to  talk 
over,  that  I  hope  you  will  not  take  him  away.' ' 

The  season  over,  Burton  started  on  another  trip  to 
Iceland ;  and  Isabel  was  left  alone,  during  which  time 
she  paid  some  visits  to  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of 
Somerset  at  Bulstrode,  always  kind  friends  of  hers, 
and  to  Madame  von  Billow  at  Reigate.  Madame  von 
Biilow  was  the  wife  of  the  Danish  Minister  in  London, 
and  one  of  Isabel's  most  intimate  friends — a  friendship 
which  lasted  all  her  life. 

When  Burton  returned  from  Iceland,  he  went  off  to 
Vichy  for  a  cure,  and  rejoined  his  wife  in  London  in 
the  autumn  ;  and  they  went  out  a  great  deal,  chiefly 
in  scientific,  literary,  and  artistic  circles.  This  year  was 
in  some  respects  one  of  the  pleasantest  of  Isabel's  life. 
Her  book  had  come  out,  and  was  a  great  success ; 
she  had  been  feted  by  all  her  friends  and  relations ; 
and  though  her  efforts  to  obtain  promotion  for  her 
husband  had  not  met  with  the  success  which  they 
deserved,  yet  the  kind  encouragement  which  she 
received  from  influential  friends,  who,  though  not 
members  of  the  Government,  were  yet  near  the  rose, 
made  her  hope  that  better  days  were  soon  to  come. 

In  December  Burton,  finding  that  he  had  still  six 
months'  leave,  asked  his  wife  where  she  would  like  to 
go  best.  She  answered,  "  India."  It  had  long  been  her 
desire  to  go  there  with  her  husband,  and  get  him  to 


UJears  at  Urieste  553 

show  her  all  the  familiar  spots  which  he  had  described 
to  her  as  having  visited  or  Jived  at  during  his  nineteen 
years'  service  in  India.  Burton  was  delighted  with  the 
idea.  So  they  got  a  map,  cut  India  down  the  middle 
lengthways  from  Cashmere  to  Cape  Comorin,  and 
planned  out  how  much  they  could  manage  to  see  on 
the  western  side,  intending  to  leave  the  eastern  side  for 
another  time,  as  the  season  was  already  too  far  advanced 
for  them  to  be  able  to  see  the  whole  of  India. 


CHAPTER  XXI1 

THE  JOURNEY  TO  BOMBAY 
(1875-1876) 

As  we  meet  and  touch  each  day 
The  many  travellers  on  the  way, 
Let  every  such  brief  contact  be 
A  glorious  helpful  ministry  — 
The  contact  of  the  soil  and  seed, 
Each  giving  to  the  other's  need, 
Each  helping  on  the  other's  best, 
And  blessing  each,  as  well  as  blest. 


ON  December  4,  1875,  we  ^e^  London  for 
Trieste,  en  route  for  India.  It  was  not  a 
cheerful  day  for  saying  good-bye  to  Old  England  and 
dear  friends.  There  was  a  fog  as  black  as  midnight, 
thick  snow  was  lying  about  the  streets,  and  a  dull  red 
gloom  only  rendered  the  darkness  visible  and  horrible. 
The  great  city  was  wrapped  in  the  sullen  splendours 
of  a  London  fog.  "  It  looks,"  said  Richard,  "  as  if  the 
city  were  in  mourning  for  some  great  national  crime." 
"  No,"  I  said,  "  rather  let  us  think  that  our  fatherland 

1  This  and  the  next  chapter  are  compiled  from  the  original  notes 
from  which  Lady  Burton  wrote  her  A.  E.  I.  and  sundry  letters  and 
diaries.  By  so  doing  I  am  able  to  give  the  Indian  tour  in  her  own 
words. 

554 


Ube  Sournes  to  JSombas  555 

wears  mourning  for  our  departure  into  exile  once 
more."  I  felt  as  if  I  could  never  rise  and  face  the  day 
that  morning.  However,  we  had  to  go,  so  there  was 
nothing  to  do  but  put  our  shoulders  to  the  wheel. 
We  lunched  with  my  father  and  family  by  lamplight 
at  one  o'clock  in  the  day.  We  prolonged  the  "festive" 
meal  as  much  as  we  could,  and  then  set  out,  a  large 
family  party,  by  the  4.45  train  to  Folkestone.  We 
all  had  supper  together  at  Folkestone,  and  enjoyed 
ourselves  immensely.  The  next  day  my  relations 
wished  me  good-bye — always  a  hard  word  to  say.  One 
parting  in  particular  wrung  my  heart :  I  little  thought 
then  I  should  meet  no  more  my  brother  Rudolph,  the 
last  of  my  four  dear  brothers,  all  of  whom  died  young 
by  untoward  accidents.  It  was  strange  I  was  always 
bidding  good-bye  to  them  every  three  or  four  years. 
One  ought  to  have  been  steeled  to  parting  by  now. 
Nevertheless  every  time  the  wrench  was  as  keen  as  ever. 

We  stopped  in  Folkestone  until  Tuesday,  and  then 
Richard  and  I  got  into  a  sleigh,  which  took  us  over 
the  snow  from  the  hotel  to  the  boat.  We  had  a  very 
cold  crossing,  but  not  a  rough  one ;  and  as  we  neared 
Boulogne  we  even  saw  a  square  inch  or  so  of  pale  blue 
sky,  a  sight  which,  after  London,  made  us  rejoice. 

The  old  port  at  Boulogne  stretched  out  its  two  long 
lean  arms  to  our  cockle-shell  of  a  steamer,  as  though 
anxious  to  embrace  it.  I  thought,  as  we  came  into 
the  harbour,  how  much  this  quaint  old  town  had  been 
bound  up  with  my  life.  I  could  never  see  it  without 
recalling  the  two  years  which  I  had  spent  in  Boulogne 
years  ago,  and  going  over  again  in  my  mind  the  time 


ss6       Ube  "(Romance  of  Isabel  Xao£  Burton 

when  I  first  saw  Richard — the  day  of  my  life  which 
will  always  be  marked  with  a  great  white  stone.  He 
was  a  young  lieutenant  then  on  furlough  from  India, 
just  beginning  to  spring  into  fame,  and  I  a  mere  girl, 
who  had  seen  nothing  of  life  but  one  hurried  London 
season. 

We  stayed  at  Boulogne  two  days,  and  we  wandered 
about  all  over  the  place  together,  calling  back  to  our 
memory  the  scenes  of  our  bygone  youth.  We  walked 
on  the  old  Ramparts  where  we  first  made  acquaintance, 
where  Richard  used  to  follow  my  sister  Blanche  and 
myself  when  we  were  sent  out  to  learn  our  lessons 
al  fresco.  We  even  saw  the  wall  where  he  chalked  up, 
"  May  I  speak  to  you  ? "  and  I  chalked  back,  "  No  ; 
mother  will  be  angry."  I  hunted  out  my  little  brother's 
grave  too,  and  planted  it  with  fresh  rose  trees ;  and 
I  visited  my  old  friend  Carolina,  the  Queen  of  the 
Poissardes.  She  was  still  a  beautiful  creature,  magnificent 
in  her  costume.  She  reminded  me  of  a  promise  I  had 
made  her  in  the  old  days,  that  if  ever  I  went  to 
Jerusalem  I  would  bring  her  a  rosary.  I  little  dreamt 
then  that  I  should  marry  Richard  Burton,  or  that  he 
would  be  Consul  at  Damascus,  or  that  1  should  go 
to  Jerusalem.  Yet  all  these  things  had  come  to  pass. 
And  so  I  was  able  to  fulfil  my  promise,  to  her  great 
delight. 

From  Boulogne  we  went  to  Paris,  vhich  I  found 
terribly  changed  since  the  Franco-Germaii  War.  The 
marks  of  the  terrible  Siege  were  still  burnt  upon  its 
face  ;  and  this  applied  not  only  to  the  city  itself,  but 
to  the  people.  The  radical  changes  of  the  last  five 


Ube  -Journep  to  Bombay  557 

years,  and  the  war  and  the  Commune,  had  made  a 
new  world  of  Paris.  The  light,  joyous  character  of 
the  French  was  no  doubt  still  below  the  surface,  but 
the  upper  crust  was  then  (at  least  so  it  struck  me)  one 
of  sulkiness,  silence,  and  economy  run  mad,  a  rage  for 
lucre,  and  a  lust  pour  la  revanche.  Even  the  women 
seemed  to  have  given  up  their  pretty  dresses,  though  of 
course  there  were  some  to  be  seen.  Yet  things  were 
very  different  now  to  what  they  had  been  under  the 
splendours  of  the  Second  Empire,  that  Empire  which 
went  "like  a  dream  of  the  night."  The  women  seemed 
to  have  become  careless,  an  unusual  thing  in  Parisiennes  : 
they  even  painted  badly;  and  it  is  a  sin  to  paint — badly. 
I  am  afraid  that  I  am  one  of  the  very  few  women  who 
do  not  like  Paris.  I  never  liked  it,  even  in  its  palmy 
days ;  and  now  at  this  time  I  liked  it  less  than  ever. 
I  was  so  glad  to  leave  at  the  end  of  the  week,  and  to 
move  out  of  the  raw,  white  fog  sunwards.  We  had  a 
most  uncomfortable  journey  from  Paris  to  Modane, 
and  the  officials  at  the  Customs  seemed  to  delight  in 
irritating  and  insulting  one.  When  I  was  passing  into 
the  custom-pen,  I  was  gruffly  addressed,  "  On  ne  passe 
pas  !  "  I  said,  "  On  ne  passe  pas  ?  Comment  on  ne 
passe  pas  ?  "  The  only  thing  wanting,  it  seemed,  was 
a  visiting-card  ;  but  the  opportunity  of  being  safely 
insolent  was  too  tempting  to  the  Jack-in-office  for  him 
to  pass  it  over.  I  could  not  help  feeling  glad  these 
braves  had  never  reached  Berlin  ;  they  would  have 
made  Europe  uninhabitable.  France  was  charming 
as  an  empire  or  as  a  monarchy,  but  as  a  brand-new 
republic  it  was  simply  detestable. 


55*       ^be  Homance  of  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

We  went  on  to  Turin,  where  we  stayed  for  a  day  or 
two  ;  and  while  here  I  sent  a  copy  of  my  Inner  Life  of 
Syria  to  the  Princess  Margherita  of  Savoy,  now  Queen 
of  Italy,  who  was  pleased  to  receive  the  same  very 
graciously.  From  Turin  we  went  to  Milan,  where  we 
lapsed  into  the  regular  routine  of  Italian  society,  so 
remarkable  for  the  exquisite  amenity  of  its  old  civiliza- 
tion (as  far  as  manners  are  concerned),  and  for  the 
stiffness  and  mediaeval  semi-barbarism  of  its  surround- 
ings. As  an  instance  of  this  we  had  occasion  to  call  on 
a  personage  to  whom  we  had  letters  of  introduction. 
We  sent  in  our  letters  with  a  visiting-card  by  the 
porter,  asking  when  we  should  call.  The  reply  was, 
"Va  bene,"  which  was  pleasant,  but  vague.  We 
took  heart  of  grace,  and  asked  at  the  door,  "  Is  the 
Signer  Conte  visible  ?  "  The  janitor  replied,  "  His 
Excellency  receives  at  8  o'clock  p.m."  We  replied,  "  At 
that  time  we  shall  be  on  the  railway."  The  domestic, 
with  leisurely  movement,  left  us  in  the  hall,  and 
dawdled  upstairs  to  report  the  remarkable  case  of  the 
importunate  English.  By-and-by  he  returned,  and 
showed  us  into  the  saloon,  a  huge,  bare,  fireless  room, 
with  a  few  grotesque  photographs  and  French  prints  on 
the  walls,  and  a  stiff  green  sofa  and  chairs.  The  Signor 
Conte  kept  us  waiting  twenty  minutes,  whilst  he 
shaved  and  exchanged  his  dressing-gown  for  the  suit  of 
sables  which  is  the  correct  raiment  of  the  Latin  race. 
Nothing  could  be  more  polished  than  his  manners. 
He  received  us  with  a  cordiality  which  at  once  won 
our  hearts.  But  we  were  introduced  to  him  by  a  bosom 
friend ;  our  pursuits  and  tastes  were  the  same.  Why 


Sournes  to  JBombag  559 

then  could  not  he  ask  us  up  to  his  cosy  study  to  give 
us  coffee  and  a  cigarette  ?  "  Sarebbe  proprio  indecente  " 
("It  would  really  be  too  rude  "),  was  the  reply,  although 
both  he  and  we  would  have  liked  it  extremely.  So  for 
want  of  time  to  crack  this  hard  nutshell  we  never  got 
at  the  kernel. 

From  Milan  we  went  to  Venice,  which  we  found 
enveloped  in  a  white  fog,  with  a  network  of  lagoons 
meandering  through  streets  of  the  foulest  mud.  Venice 
is  pre-eminently  a  hot-weather  city.  In  winter,  with 
her  cold  canals  and  wet  alleys,  deep  rains  and  dense 
mists,  her  huge,  unwarmed  palaces,  and  her  bare, 
draughty  hotels,  she  is  a  veritable  wet  place  of  punish- 
ment. We  stayed  in  Venice  for  some  days,  and  made 
several  pleasant  acquaintances.  I  had  with  me  a  German 
maid,  who  had  never  seen  Venice.  She  went  in  a 
gondola  for  the  first  time,  and  was  at  the  highest  pitch 
of  excitement  at  finding  that  all  was  water.  She 
marvelled  at  the  absence  of  cabs  and  dust,  and  ex- 
claimed perpetually,  "  Nothing  but  water,  water  every- 
where "  ;  which  we  naturally  capped  with,  "  But  not  a 
drop  to  drink,"  until  I  believe  she  fancied  that  drink 
was  the  only  thing  we  English  ever  thought  of. 

On  December  23  we  went  across  to  Trieste  by  the 
midnight  boat,  and  next  morning  I  was  at  Trieste 
again,  my  much-loved  home  of  four  years  and  a  half. 
I  found  it  all  to  a  hair  as  I  had  left  it  just  a  year 
ago,  for  I  had  been  absent  twelve  months  in  England. 
Christmas  Night,  however,  was  a  little  sad.  We  had 
accepted  an  invitation  for  a  Christmas  dinner,  and  had 
given  the  servants  leave  to  go  out  to  see  their  friends ; 


560       ZEbe  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcg  JBurton 

but  Richard  was  unfortunately  taken  ill,  and  could  not 
dine  out,  and  he  went  to  bed.  Of  course  I  stayed 
with  him  ;  but  we  had  nobody  to  cook  for  us,  nor 
anything  to  eat  in  the  house  except  bread  and  olives. 
I  went  to  the  pantry  and  foraged,  and  with  this  simple 
fare  ate  my  Christmas  dinner  by  his  bedside. 

We  stopped  in  Trieste  eight  days,  just  to  pack  up 
and  complete  arrangements  for  our  tour ;  and  on  the 
last  day  of  the  old  year  we  left  for  Jeddah.  We  were 
aware  that  we  were  starting  for  India  two  or  three 
months  too  late,  and  would  have  to  encounter  the  heat 
and  fatal  season  to  accomplish  it ;  but  as  Richard  said, 
"  Consuls,  like  beggars,  can't  be  choosers,"  and  we 
were  only  too  glad  to  be  able  to  go  at  all.  Everybody 
was  most  kind  to  us,  and  a  lot  of -friends  came  to  a 
parting  midday  dinner,  and  accompanied  us  to  our 
ship  to  see  us  off.  The  Government  boat,  containing 
the  Capitaim  du  Pert  and  the  sailors,  in  uniform,  took 
us  to  our  ship,  an  honour  seldom  accorded  to  any  but 
high  Austrian  officials  ;  and  the  Duke  of  Wurtemberg, 
Commander-in-chief  at  Trieste,  and  several  others  came 
to  wish  us  "  God-speed."  I  shall  never  forget  their 
kindness,  for  I  appreciated  the  honour  which  they  did 
to  Richard.  It  is  strange  how  much  more  willing 
those  in  authority  abroad  were  to  do  him  justice  than 
the  Government  at  home. 

The  run  from  Trieste  to  Port  Said  occupied  six  days 
and  six  nights.  Our  ship  was  the  Calypso  (Austrian 
Lloyd's),  a  good  old  tub,  originally  built  for  a  cattle- 
boat.  We  were  the  only  passengers,  and,  with  the 
captain  and  his  officers,  we  made  a  family  party,  and  I 


Ube  3ournes  to  Bombay  56* 

was  never  more  comfortable  on  board  ship  in  my  life. 
The  voyage  to  Port  Said  has  been  so  often  described 
that  I  need  not  dwell  upon  it  again.  We  had  fair 
weather  for  the  first  five  days,  and  then  there  was  a 
decided  storm,  which,  however,  did  not  last  long. 
One  gets  so  knocked  about  in  a  steamer  that  baths  are 
impossible ;  one  can  only  make  a  hasty  toilet  at  the 
most,  being  obliged  to  hold  on  to  something,  or  be 
knocked  the  while  from  one  end  of  the  cabin  to  the 
other  ;  one  dines,  so  to  speak,  on  the  balance,  with  the 
food  ever  sliding  into  one's  lap.  Our  boat  danced 
about  throughout  the  voyage  in  a  most  extraordinary 
manner,  which  made  me  think  that  she  had  but  little 
cargo.  I  spent  most  of  the  time  on  deck,  "  between 
blue  sea  and  azure  air,"  and  I  did  a  good  deal  of 
reading.  I  read  Moore's  Veiled  Prophet  of  Khorassan 
and  other  books,  including  Lalla  Rookh  and  'The  Light 
of  the  Harm  ;  also  Smollett's  ^Memoirs  of  a  Lady  of 
Quality,  which  I  found  coarse,  but  interesting.  Some 
one  told  me  that  a  course  of  Smollett  was  more  or  less 
necessary  to  form  one  for  novel-writing,  so  I  took  that 
and  'The  Adventures  of  Roderick  Random  on  board  to 
study,  in  case  I  should  ever  write  a  novel.  I  felt  rather 
displeased  when  Smollett's  Lady  of  Quality  married  her 
second  husband,  and  quite  bouleversee  long  before  I 
arrived  at  her  fifteenth  lover. 

Port  Said  shows  itself  upon  the  southern  horizon  in 
two  dark  lines,  like  long  piles  or  logs  of  wood  lying 
upon  the  sea,  one  large  and  one  small.  These  are  the 
white  town  and  the  black  town,  apparently  broken  by 
an  inlet  of  sea,  and  based  upon  a  strip  of  yellow  sand. 

36 


562       Ube  IRomance  of  3sabel  Xaog  Burton 

The  sea  is  most  unwholesome  and  stagnant.  The 
houses  of  Port  Said  looked  like  painted  wooden  toys. 
The  streets  were  broad,  but  the  shops  were  full  of 
nothing  but  rubbish,  and  were  surrounded  by  dogs 
and  half-naked,  dark-brown  gutter-boys.  There  is  a 
circular  garden  in  the  centre  of  the  European  part,  with 
faded  flowers,  and  a  kiosk  for  the  band  to  play  in. 
The  most  picturesque  and  the  dirtiest  part  is  the  Arab 
town,  with  its  tumble-down  houses  and  bazar.  The 
people  wear  gaudy  prints  and  dirty  mantles  bespangled 
with  gold.  There  were  a  great  many  low-class  music- 
halls  and  gambling-  and  dancing-saloons.  Port  Said  is 
in  fact  a  sort  of  Egyptian  Wapping,  and  I  am  told  the 
less  one  knows  about  its  morals  the  better. 

While  we  were  strolling  about  the  Arab  part,  my 
German  maid,  who  was  in  an  Eastern  place  for  the  first 
time,  came  upon  a  man  filling  a  goat-skin  with  water. 
She  saw  a  pipe  and  the  skin  distending,  and  heard  the 
sound.  She  had  often  heard  me  say  how  cruel  the 
Easterns  were  to  animals  ;  and  knowing  my  tenderness 
on  that  point,  she  ran  after  me  in  a  great  state  of 
excitement,  and  pulled  my  arm,  crying  out,  "  O  Euer 
Gnaden  !  The  black  man  is  filling  the  poor  sow  with 
gas  !  Do  come  back  and  stop  him  !  " 

The  next  morning  early  we  began  to  steam  slowly  up 
the  long  ditch  called  the  Canal,  and  at  last  to  the  far 
east  we  caught  a  gladdening  glimpse  of  the  desert — the 
wild,  waterless  Wilderness  of  Sur,  with  its  waves  and 
pyramids  of  sand  catching  the  morning  rays,  with  its 
shadows  of  mauve,  rose  pink,  and  ligh'est  blue,  with 
its  plains  and  rain-sinks,  bearing  brown  dots,  which 


Ube  Sourneg  to  Bombay  563 

were  tamarisks  (manna  trees).  The  sky  was  heavenly 
blue,  the  water  a  deep  band  of  the  clearest  green,  the 
air  balmy  and  fresh.  The  golden  sands  stretched  far 
away  ;  an  occasional  troop  of  Bedawin  with  their  camels 
and  goats  passed,  and  reminded  me  of  those  dear,  dead 
days  at  Damascus.  It  all  came  back  to  me  with  a  rush. 
Once  more  I  was  in  the  East.  I  had  not  enjoyed  myself 
so  much  with  Nature  for  four  years  and  a  half.  With 
the  smell  of  the  desert  air  in  our  nostrils,  with  Eastern 
pictures  before  our  eyes,  we  were  even  grateful  for  the 
slowness  of  the  pace  at  which  we  travelled.  They  were 
the  pleasantest  two  days  imaginable,  like  a  river  picnic. 
We  reached  Suez,  with  its  air  of  faded  glory,  at  length  ; 
and  there  we  shipped  a  pious  pilot,  who  said  his  prayers 
regularly,  and  carefully  avoided  touching  my  dog.  Of 
course  he  was  from  Mecca ;  but,  unhappily  for  his 
reputation,  the  first  night  spent  at  Jeddah  gave  him  a 
broken  nose,  the  result  of  a  scrimmage  in  some  low 
coffee-house. 

At  last  we  neared  Jeddah,  the  port  of  Mecca.  The 
approach  was  extraordinary.  For  twenty  miles  it  is  pro- 
tected by  Nature's  breakwaters,  lines  of  low,  flat  reefs, 
barely  covered,  and  not  visible  until  you  are  close  upon 
them.  There  was  no  mark  or  lighthouse  save  two  little 
white  posts,  which  might  easily  be  mistaken  for  a  couple 
of  gulls.  In  and  out  of  these  reers  the  ship  went  like  a 
serpent.  There  was  barely  passage  for  it  between  them  ; 
but  of  course  no  pilot  would  attempt  it  save  in  broad 
daylight.  At  length  we  reached  the  inner  reef.  We 
found  the  open  roadstead  full  of  ships,  with  hardly 
room  to  swing,  and  a  strong  north-west  wind,  so  that 


564      Ube  TComance  of  Isabel  Xaos  JSurton 

we  could  not  get  a  place.  We  ran  right  into  the  first 
at  anchor,  the  Standard,  a  trading-ship  of  Shields,  built 
of  iron.  Richard  and  I  were  standing  on  the  bridge, 
and  he  touched  my  arm  and  said  : 

"  By  Jove  !     We're  going  right  into  that  ship." 

"  Oh  no,"  I  answered ;  "  with  the  captain  and  the 
pilot  on  the  bridge,  and  all  the  crew  in  the  forecastle, 
it  can  only  be  a  beautiful  bit  of  steering.  We  shall 
just  shave  her." 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  my  mouth  when 
smash  went  our  bulwarks  like  brown  paper,  and  our 
yardarms  crumpled  up  like  umbrellas.  I  had  jokingly 
threatened  them  with  the  "  thirteenth  "  the  day  before, 
but  they  had  laughed  at  me. 

"  II  tredici !  "  shouted  the  second  officer,  as  he  flew 
by  us. 

The  crews  of  both  ships  behaved  splendidly,  and  the 
cry  on  board  our  ship  was,  "  Where  is  the  English 
captain  ?  I  do  not  see  him." 

"  No,"  we  answered,  "  you  do  not  see  him,  but  we 
can  hear  him."  And  sure  enough  there  he  was  all  right, 
and  swearing  quite  like  himself.  There  is  nothing  like 
an  Englishman  for  a  good  decisive  order  ;  and  who  can 
blame  him  if  he  adds  at  such  times  a  little  powder  to 
drive  the  shot  home  ? 

We  were  about  three  hours  disentangling  ourselves. 

I  was  delighted  with  my  first  view  of  Jeddah.  It  is 
the  most  bizarre  and  fascinating  town.  It  looks  as  if 
it  were  an  ancient  model  carved  in  old  ivory,  so  white 
and  fanciful  are  the  houses,  with  here  and  there  a 
minaret.  It  was  doubly  interesting  to  me,  because 


565 

Richard  came  here  by  land  from  his  famous  pilgrimage 
to  Mecca.  Mecca  lies  in  a  valley  between  two  distant 
ranges  of  mountains.  My  impression  of  Jeddah  will 
always  be  that  of  an  ivory  town  embedded  in  golden 
sand. 

We  anchored  at  Jeddah  for  eight  days,  which  time 
we  spent  at  the  British  Consulate  on  a  visit.  The 
Consulate  was  the  best  house  in  all  Jeddah,  close  to  the 
sea,  with  a  staircase  so  steep  that  it  was  like  ascending 
the  Pyramids.  I  called  it  the  Eagle's  Nest,  because 
of  the  good  air  and  view.  It  was  a  sort  of  bachelors' 
establishment ;  for  in  addition  to  the  Consul  and  Vice- 
Consul  and  others,  there  were  five  bachelors  who 
resided  in  the  building,  whom  I  used  to  call  the 
"  Wreckers,"  because  they  were  always  looking  out  for 
ships  with  a  telescope.  They  kept  a  pack  of  bull- 
terriers,  donkeys,  ponies,  gazelles,  rabbits,  pigeons  ;  in 
fact  a  regular  menagerie.  They  combined  Eastern  and 
European  comfort,  and  had  the  usual  establishment  of 
dragomans,  kawwasses,  and  servants  of  all  sizes,  shapes, 
and  colour.  I  was  the  only  lady  in  the  house,  but  we 
were  nevertheless  a  very  jolly  party. 

Our  first  excursion  was  to  Eve's  Tomb,  as  it  is 
called,  a  large  curious  building  in  a  spacious  en- 
closure. Two  or  three  holy  people  are  buried  here, 
and  the  place  commands  a  lovely  view  of  the  distant 
mountains,  beyond  which  lies  Mecca. 

The  inhabitants  of  Jeddah  are  very  interesting  in 
many  ways.  There  are  some  two  hundred  nautch- 
girls  there  ;  but  they  are  forbidden  to  dance  before 
men,  though  I  have  heard  that  the  law  can  be  evaded 


566      TEbe  Ktomance  of  Ssabel  Xaog  Burton 

on  occasions.  In  the  plains  there  are  two  different 
types  of  Arabs  :  the  Bedawin,  and  the  "  settled  men." 
The  latter  are  a  fine,  strong,  healthy  race,  though  very 
wild  and  savage.  We  used  frequently  to  ride  out  into 
the  desert  and  make  excursions.  I  would  have  given 
anything  to  have  gone  to  Mecca.  It  was  hard  to  be 
so  near,  and  yet  to  have  to  turn  round  and  come 
back.  There  was  a  rumour  that  two  Englishmen  had 
gone  up  to  Mecca  for  a  lark,  and  had  been  killed. 
This  was  not  true.  But  all  the  same  Mecca  was  not 
safe  for  a  European  woman,  and  it  was  not  the  time 
to  show  my  blue  eyes  and  broken  Arabic  on  holy 
ground.  I  therefore  used  to  console  myself  by  re- 
turning from  our  expeditions  in  the  desert  through 
the  Mecca  Gate  of  Jeddah,  and  then  riding  through 
the  bazars,  half  dark  and  half  lit,  to  see  the  pilgrims' 
camels.  The  bazars  literally  swarmed  with  a  pictur- 
esque and  variegated  mob,  hailing  from  all  lands,  and 
of  every  race  and  tongue.  We  were  not  interfered 
with  in  any  way;  though  had  it  been  1853,  the  year 
when  Richard  went  to  Mecca,  to  have  taken  these 
rides  in  the  desert,  and  to  have  walked  through  the 
Mecca  Gate,  would  most  certainly  have  cost  us  our 
lives.  I  also  saw  the  khan  where  Richard  lived  as  one 
of  these  pilgrims  in  1853,  and  the  minaret  which  he 
sketched  in  his  book  on  Mecca.  While  we  were  at 
Jeddah  the  Governor  and  all  those  who  knew  the 
story  of  his  pilgrimage  to  Mecca  called  on  us,  and 
were  very  civil. 

Our   days  at  Jeddah  were  very  pleasant  ones.     In 
the  evening  we  used  to  sit  outside  the  Consulate,  and 


567 

have  some  sherry  and  a  cigarette,  and  play  with  the 
dogs.  One  evening  Richard  came  in  and  discovered  me 
anxiously  nursing  what  I  thought  was  a  dying  negro. 
He  was  very  angry,  for  he  found  him  to  be  only 
drunk,  and  there  was  a  great  shout  of  merriment 
among  all  our  colony  in  the  Consulate — "  my  boys," 
as  I  used  to  call  them — when  the  truth  came  out. 
These  terrible  boys  teased  the  negro  by  putting  snuff 
up  his  nose.  They  were  awful  boys,  but  such  fun. 
They  were  always  up  to  all  sorts  of  tricks.  When 
the  food  was  bad,  they  used  to  call  the  cook  in,  and 
make  him  eat  it.  "  What's  this  ?  "  they  would  say. 
"  No  !  no  !  Massa  ;  me  Jose  caste."  "  Hold  your 
tongue,  you  damned  scoundrel !  Eat  it  directly."  One 
day  it  was  seven  big  smoked  onions  which  the  cook  had 
to  consume.  I  am  bound  to  say  that  it  had  a  good 
effect  upon  him,  for  the  table  was  certainly  excellent 
after  this.  I  wish  we  could  follow  some  such  plan 
in  England  with  our  cooks.  Even  more  did  I  wish 
we  could  do  so  at  Trieste.  I  thought  the  dogs  were 
worse  than  the  boys.  There  were  about  ten  bull-dogs 
in  the  house.  They  used  to  worry  everything  they 
saw,  and  sent  every  pariah  flying  out  of  the  bazars. 
Since  I  left  Jeddah  I  heard  that  the  natives  had 
poisoned  all  these  dogs,  which  I  really  think  served 
the  boys  right,  but  not  the  dogs.  I  remember  too, 
on  one  or 'two  occasions,  when  we  were  riding  out 
Meccawards,  my  horse  was  so  thin  and  the  girths  were 
so  large  that  my  saddle  came  round  with  me,  and  I  had 
a  spill  on  the  sand,  which  greatly  delighted  the  boys, 
but  did  not  hurt  me. 


568      ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  xaog  JSurton 


I  was  so  sorry  to  part  with  them  all  ;  we  were  good 
friends  together.  But  after  eight  exceedingly  pleasant 
days  at  Jeddah  we  received  notice  to  embark,  and  we 
had  to  say  good-bye  and  go  on  board  the  Calypso.  The 
sea  was  very  rough,  and  I  sat  on  a  chair  lashed  to  the 
deck.  The  Calypso  was  bound  for  Bombay,  and  had 
taken  on  board  at  Jeddah  and  stowed  away  some  eight 
hundred  pilgrims,  who  were  returning  to  India  from 
Mecca.  They  were  packed  like  cattle,  and  as  the  weather 
was  very  rough  the  poor  pilgrims  suffered  terribly.  The 
waves  were  higher  than  the  ship.  I  crawled  about  as 
well  as  I  could,  and  tried  to  help  the  pilgrims  a  little. 
The  second  day  one  of  them  died,  and  was  buried  at 
sunset.  I  shall  never  forget  that  funeral  at  sea.  They 
washed  the  body,  and  then  put  a  strip  of  white  stuff 
round  the  loins,  and  a  bit  of  money  to  show  that  he  is 
not  destitute  when  he  arrives  in  the  next  world.  Then 
they  tied  him  up  in  a  sheet,  and  with  his  head  and  feet 
tied  he  looked  iust  like  a  big  white  cracker.  He  was  then 
laid  upon  a  shutter  with  a  five-pound  bar  of  iron  bound 
to  his  feet,  and  after  a  short  Arabic  prayer  they  took 
him  to  the  side  and  hurled  him  over.  There  was  no 
mourning  or  wailing  among  the  pilgrims.  On  the 
contrary,  they  all  seemed  most  cheerful  over  this 
function  ;  and  of  course,  according  to  their  way  of 
thinking,  a  man  would  be  glad  to  die,  as  he  went 
straight  to  heaven.  But  I  am  bound  to  say  that  it  had 
a  most  depressing  effect  upon  me,  for  we  had  twenty- 
three  funerals  in  twelve  days.  They  seemed  to  take  it 
very  much  as  a  matter  of  course  ;  but  I  kept  saying  to 
myself,  "  That  poor  Indian  and  I  might  both  be  lying 


ttbe  Bournes  to  Bombag  s69 

dead  to-day.  There  would  be  a  little  more  ceremony 
over  me,  and  (not  of  course  including  my  husband) 
my  death  would  cast  a  gloom  over  the  dinner-table 
possibly  a  couple  of  days.  Once  we  were  shunted 
down  the  ship's  side,  the  sharks  would  eat  us  both, 
and  perhaps  like  me  a  little  the  better,  as  I  am  fat  and 
well  fed,  and  do  not  smell  of  cocoa-nut  oil  ;  and  then 
we  would  both  stand  before  the  throne  of  God  to  be 
judged — he  with  his  poverty,  hardships,  sufferings, 
pilgrimage,  and  harmless  life,  and  I  with  all  my  faults, 
my  happy  life,  my  luxuries,  and  the  little  wee  bit  of 
good  I  have  ever  done  or  ever  thought,  to  obtain  mercy 
with  ;  only  equal  that  our  Saviour  died  for  us  both." 

I  can  hardly  express  what  I  suffered  during  that 
fortnight's  voyage  on  board  the  pilgrim-ship.  It 
was  an  experience  which  I  would  never  repeat  again. 
Imagine  eight  hundred  Moslems,  ranging  in  point  of 
colour  through  every  shade  from  lemon  or  cafe  au  lait 
to  black  as  ebony;  races  from  every  part  of  the  world, 
covering  every  square  inch  of  deck,  and  every  part  of 
the  hold  fore  and  aft,  packed  like  sardines,  men,  women, 
and  babies,  reeking  of  cocoa-nut  oil.  It  was  a  voyage 
of  horror.  I  shall  never  forget  their  unwashed  bodies, 
their  sea-sickness,  their  sores,  the  dead  and  the  dying, 
their  rags,  and  last,  but  not  least,  their  cookery.  Except 
to  cook  or  fetch  water  or  kneel  in  prayer,  none  of 
them  moved  out  of  the  small  space  or  position  which 
they  assumed  at  the  beginning  of  the  voyage.  Those 
who  died  did  not  die  of  disease  so  much  as  of  privation 
and  fatigue,  hunger,  thirst,  and  opium.  They  died  of 
vermin  and  misery.  I  shall  never  forget  the  expres- 


IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 


sion  of  dumb,  mute,  patient  pain  which  most  of  them 
wore.  I  cannot  eat  my  dinner  if  I  see  a  dog  look- 
ing wistfully  at  it.  I  therefore  spent  the  whole  day 
staggering  about  our  rolling  ship  with  sherbet  and 
food  and  medicines,  treating  dysentery  and  fever. 
During  my  short  snatches  of  sleep  I  dreamt  of  these 
horrors  too.  But  it  was  terribly  disheartening  work, 
owing  to  their  fanaticism.  Many  of  them  listened  to 
me  with  more  faith  about  food  and  medicines  because 
I  knew  something  of  the  Koran,  and  could  recite  their 
Bismillah  and  their  call  to  prayer. 

At  last  we  arrived  at  Aden,  where  a  troop  of  Somali 
lads  came  on  board,  with  their  bawling  voices  and  their 
necklaces  and  their  mop-heads  of  mutton  wool,  now  and 
then  plastered  with  lime.  They  sell  water,  firewood, 
fowls,  eggs,  and  so  forth.  We  landed  at  Aden  for  a 

'        DO    ' 

few  hours.  It  is  a  wild,  desolate  spot  ;  the  dark  basalt 
mountains  give  it  a  sombre  look.  Richard  and  I  spent 
some  hours  with  the  wife  of  the  Governor,  or  Station 
Commandant,  at  her  house.  It  was  terribly  hot.  I 
think  it  was  Aden  where  the  sailors  reappeared  who 
had  died  and  gone  to  certain  fiery  place  ;  and  on  being 
asked  why  they  came  back,  they  replied  that  they  had 
caught  cold,  and  had  got  leave  to  come  and  fetch  their 
blankets  ! 

We  returned  at  half-past  four  in  the  afternoon  to  our 
ship  and  the  pilgrims.  The  weather  that  night  became 
very  rough,  and  during  the  night  a  Bengali  fell  over- 
board. His  companion,  who  witnessed  the  accident,  said 
nothing  ;  and  on  being  asked  later  where  he  was,  replied 
casually,  '*  I  saw  him  fall  overboard  about  three  hours 


Ube  -Journeg  to  JSombap  571 

ago."  Such  are  the  ways  of  these  peculiar  pilgrims. 
They  have  no  more  sympathy  for  one  another  than 
cattle.  None  would  give  a  draught  of  water  to  the 
dying  ;  and  as  for  praying  over  the  corpses  before 
throwing  them  overboard,  if  they  could  help  it  they 
would  scarcely  take  the  trouble.  It  was  too  rough  all 
the  next  day  for  reading  or  writing  ;  and  to  add  to 
our  discomfort  two  Russian  passengers  got  drunk, 
and  fought  at  the  table,  and  called  each  other  "  liar 
and  coward,"  "  snob  and  thief,"  "  spy  and  menial,"  and 
other  choice  epithets.  However,  their  bark  was  worse 
than  their  bite,  for  they  cooled  down  after  they  had 
succeeded  in  upsetting  us  all. 

I  staggered  about  on  deck  for  the  next  few  days  as 
much  as  possible,  and  again*  did  what  I  could  for  the 
pilgrims;  but  it  was  weary  work.  I  doctored  several  of 
them  ;  but  our  Russian  passengers  aforesaid  brought  me 
word  later  that  when  those  who  must  in  any  case  have 
expired,  died,  the  others  said  it  was  I  who  poisoned 
them  ;  and  that  was  all  the  thanks  I  got  for  my  pains. 
If  it  were  so,  I  wonder  why  did  the  whole  ship  run  after 
me  for  help  ?  One  old  man  said,  u  Come,  O  bountiful 
one,  and  sit  a  little  amongst  us  and  examine  my  wife, 
who  has  the  itch,  and  give  her  something  to  cure  it." 
But  I  got  wary,  and  I  said,  "  If  I  were  to  give  her  any 
medicine,  she  will  presently  die  of  weakness,  and  I  shall 
be  blamed  for  her  death."  However,  I  did  what  I 
could.  In  some  of  the  cases  I  asked  my  maid  to  come 
and  help  me;  but  she  turned  away  in  disgust,  and  said, 
"  No  thank  you  ;  I  have  the  nose  of  a  princess,  and 
cannot  do  such  work."  And  really  it  was  horrible, 


572       ftbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  %at>s  JSurton 

for  many  came  to  me  daily  to  wash,  clean,  anoint,  and 
tie  up  their  feet,  which  were  covered  with  sores  and 
worms. 

On  January  30  a  north-east  wind  set  in  with 
violence.  Every  one  was  dreadfully  sick.  The  ship 
danced  like  a  cricket-ball,  and  the  pilgrims  howled  with 
fright,  and  six  died.  The  next  day  the  weather  cleared 
up,  and  it  lasted  fine  until  we  reached  Bombay.  We 
had  a  delightful  evening,  with  balmy  air,  crescent  moon, 
and  stars,  and  the  Dalmatian  sailors  sang  glees.  That 
day  another  pilgrim  died,  and  was  robbed.  His  body 
was  rifled  of  his  bit  of  money  as  he  lay  dying,  and  they 
fought  like  cats  before  his  eyes  for  the  money  he  had 
been  too  avaricious  to  buy  food  with  and  keep  himself 
alive. 

At  last,  betimes,  on  February  2,  the  thirty-third  day 
after  leaving  Trieste,  a  haze  of  hills  arose  from  the  east- 
ward horizon,  and  we  knew  it  to  be  India.  Then  the 
blue  water  waxed  green,  greenish,  and  brown,  like 
to  liquid  mud.  The  gulls  became  tamer  and  more 
numerous,  and  jetsam  and  flotsam  drifted  past  us.  We 
sighted  land  very  early.  As  we  were  running  in  the 
pilot  came  alongside,  and  called  up  to  the  captain, 
<{  Have  you  any  sickness  on  board  ?  "  The  answer  was, 
"  Yes."  "  Then,"  said  the  pilot,  "  run  up  the  yellow 
flag.  I  will  keep  alongside  in  a  boat,  and  you  make  for 
Butcher's  Island "  (a  horrible  quarantine  station).  I 
was  standing  on  the  bridge,  and,  seeing  the  yellow  flag 
hoisted,  and  hearing  the  orders,  felt  convinced  that  there 
was  a  mistake.  So  I  made  a  trumpet  with  my  hands,  and 
holloaed  down  to  the  pilot,  **  Why  have  you  run  up 


Sourneg  to  Bombay  573 

that  flag  ?  We  have  got  no  disease."  "  Oh  yes  you 
have ;  either  cholera  or  small-pox  or  yellow  jack."  "We 
have  nothing  of  the  sort,"  I  answered.  "  Then  why 
did  the  captain  answer  c  Yes '  ?  "  he  replied.  "  Because 
it  is  the  only  English  word  he  knows,"  I  cried.  Then 
he  asked  me  for  particulars,  and  said  he  would  go  off 
for  the  doctor,  and  we  were  to  stand  at  a  reasonable 
distance  from  Bombay.  This  took  place  in  a  spacious 
bay,  surrounded  by  mountains,  a  poor  imitation  of  the 
Bay  of  Rio.  Presently  the  doctor  arrived.  Richard 
explained,  and  we  were  allowed  to  land.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  thankfulness  of  the  pilgrims,  or  the  rush 
they  made  for  the  shore.  They  swarmed  like  rats 
down  the  ropes,  hardly  waiting  for  the  boats.  They 
gave  Richard  and  me  a  sort  of  cheer,  as  they  attri- 
buted their  escape  from  quarantine  to  our  intervention. 
Indeed,  if  we  had  been  herded  together  a  few  more 
days,  some  disease  must  have  broken  out. 
And  thus  we  set  foot  in  India. 


CHAPTER  XXU 

INDIA 
(1876) 

Where'er  I  roam,  whatever  realms  to  see, 
My  heart,  untravelled,  fondly  turns  to  thee. 

GOLDSMITH. 

ON  arriving  at  Bombay,  we  housed  ourselves  at 
Watson's  Esplanade  Hotel,  a  very  large  building. 
We  went  to  see  the  sights  of  the  town,  and  I  was  very 
much  interested  in  all  that  I  saw,  though  the  populace 
struck  me  as  being  stupid  and  uninteresting,  not  like 
the  Arabs  at  all.  As  I  was  new  to  India  I  was  much 
struck  by  the  cows  with  humps  ;  by  brown  men  with 
patches  of  mud  on  their  foreheads,  a  stamp  showing 
their  Brahmin  caste ;  by  children,  and  big  children 
too,  with  no  garments  except  a  string  of  silver  bells  ; 
and  by  men  lying  in  their  palanquins,  so  like  our 
hospital  litters  that  I  said,  "  Dear  me  !  The  small-pox 
must  be  very  bad,  for  I  see  some  one  being  carried  to 
the  hospital  every  minute."  The  picturesque  trees,  the 
coloured  temples,  and  the  Parsee  palaces,  garnished  for 
weddings,  also  impressed  themselves  upon  my  mind. 
The  next  day  we  made  an  excursion  to  see  the  Caves 

574 


Snfcia  575 

of  Elephanta.  These  caves  are  on  an  island  about  an 
hour's  steaming  from  Bombay.  They  are  very  wonder- 
ful, and  are  natural  temples,  or  chapels,  to  Shiva  in  his 
triune  form,  Brahma,  Vishnu,  and  Shiva,  and  other 
gods,  and  are  carved  or  hewn  out  of  the  solid  rock. 
The  entrance  to  the  caves  is  clothed  with  luxuriant 
verdure. 

The  day  following  a  friend  drove  us  with  his  own 
team  out  to  Bandora,  about  twelve  miles  from  Bombay, 
where  he  had  a  charming  bungalow  in  a  wild  spot  close 
to  the  sea.  We  drove  through  the  Mahim  Woods — 
a  grand,  wild,  straggling  forest  of  palms  of  all  kinds, 
acacias,  and  banyan  trees.  The  bungalow  was  rural, 
solitary,  and  refreshing,  something  after  the  fashion 
of  the  Eagle's  Nest  we  had  made  for  ourselves  at 
Bludan  in  the  old  days  in  Syria.  Towards  sunset  the 
Duke  of  Sutherland  (who,  when  Lord  Stafford,  had 
visited  us  at  Damascus)  and  other  friends  arrived,  and 
we  had  a  very  jolly  dinner  and  evening.  It  was  the  eve 
of  a  great  feast,  and  young  boys  dressed  like  tigers  came 
and  performed  some  native  dancing,  with  gestures  of 
fighting  and  clawing  one  another,  which  was  exceed- 
ingly graceful. 

The  feast  was  the  ^abut,  or  Muharram,  a  Moslem 
miracle  play ;  and  on  our  return  to  Bombay  I  went  to 
see  it.  I  had  to  go  alone,  because  Richard  had  seen 
it  before,  and  none  of  the  other  Europeans  apparently 
cared  to  see  it  at  all.  The  crowd  was  so  great  I  had 
to  get  a  policeman's  help.  They  Jet  me  into  the  play- 
house at  last.  The  whole  place  was  a  blaze  of  lamps 
and  mirrors.  A  brazier  filled  with  wood  was  flaring 


576      Hbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xabg  36urton 

up,  and  there  was  a  large  white  tank  of  water.  It  was 
an  extraordinary  sight.  The  fanaticism,  frenzy,  and 
the  shrieks  of  the  crowd  made  a  great  impression  on 
me.  The  play  was  a  tragedy,  a  passion  play;  and  the 
religious  emotion  was  so  intense  and  so  contagious 
that,  although  I  could  not  understand  a  word  I  found 
myself  weeping  with  the  rest. 

Among  other  things,  during  our  sta>  at  Bombay, 
we  went  to  the  races  at  Byculla,  a  very  pretty  sight, 
though  not  in  the  least  like  an  English  racecourse. 
The  Eastern  swells  were  on  the  ground  and  in 
carriages,  and  the  Europeans  in  the  club  stand.  There 
was  only  one  good  jockey,  and  whatever  horse  he  rode 
won,  even  when  the  others  were  more  likely.  There 
was  an  Arab  horse  which  ought  r.o  have  beaten  every- 
thing, but  the  clumsy  black  riner  sat  like  a  sack  and 
ruined  his  chances.  I  saw  that  at  once,  and  won  nine 
bets  one  after  another. 

We  went  to  a  great  many  festivities  during  our  stay 
at  Bombay.  Among  other  things  we  breakfasted  with 
a  Persian  Mirza,  who  knew  Richard  when  he  was  at 
Bombay  in  1848.  After  breakfast — quite  a  Persian 
feast — I  visited  his  harim,  where  we  women  smoked 
a  narghileh  and  discussed  religious  topics,  and  they 
tried  to  convert  me  to  El  Islam.  I  also  went  to  the 
wedding  feast  of  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  most 
charming  Hindu  gentlemen,  whose  name  is  so  long 
that  I  do  not  quote  it,  a  most  brilliant  entertainment. 
I  also  went  to  some  steeplechases  and  a  garden- 
party  at  Parell  (Government  House).  There  was  a 
large  attendance,  and  much  dressing ;  it  was  something 


577 

like  a  mild  Chiswick  party.  I  amused  myself  with 
talking  to  the  Bishop.  I  also  went  to  the  Byculla  ball, 
which  was  very  well  done.  While  at  Bombay  I  saw 
the  mango  trick  for  the  first  time.  It  is  apt  to  astonish 
one  at  first  to  see  a  tree  planted  and  grow  before  one's 
eyes  without  any  apparent  means  to  accomplish  it. 
The  Indian  jugglers  are  clever,  but  I  have  seen  better 
at  Cairo.  We  were  tired  of  the  child  being  killed  in 
the  basket,  and  the  mango  trick  soon  became  stale. 

On  February  21  we  left  Bombay  for  Matheran,  up 
in  the  mountains.  We  went  by  train  to  Narel ;  but 
the  last  stage  of  the  journey,  after  Narel,  had  to  be 
performed  on  horseback,  or  rather  pony-back.  We 
rode  through  seven  miles  of  splendid  mountain  scenery, 
an  ascent  of  two  thousand  seven  hundred  feet.  Car- 
riages could  not  come  here  unless  they  were  carried 
upon  the  head  like  the  philanthropist's  wheelbarrows  by 
the  Africans  of  Sierra  Leone.  Our  road  was  very  rough, 
and  our  ponies  stumbled  and  shied  at  the  dogs.  I  was 
badly  dressed  for  the  occasion.  My  small  hired  saddle 
cut  me ;  it  was  loose,  and  had  too  long  a  stirrup  ;  and 
although  we  were  only  two  hours  ascending,  and  six  hours 
out,  I  was  tired  by  the  time  we  arrived  at  Matheran. 

The  next  day  we  were  up  betimes.  I  was  delighted 
with  the  wooded  lanes  and  the  wild  flowers,  the  pure 
atmosphere,  and  the  lights  and  shadows  playing  on  the 
big  foliage.  We  looked  down  on  magnificent  ravines 
among  buttressed-shaped  mountains.  The  fantastic 
Ghats  rose  up  out  of  the  plain  before  us.  On  clear 
days  there  was  a  lovely  view  of  Bombay  and  the  sea 
with  the  bright  sun  shining  upon  it.  The  scenery 

37 


578      Ube  Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

everywhere  was  grand  and  bold.  We  made  several 
excursions  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  I  found  the 
natives,  or  jungle  people,  very  interesting. 

On  the  23rd  we  left  Matheran.  We  started  early  in 
the  morning  for  Narel,  walked  down  the  steep  descent 
from  Matheran,  then  rode.  We  arrived  hot  and  a  little 
tired  at  Narel  station,  and  the  train  came  in  at  10  a.m. 
We  mounted  the  break,  and  much  enjoyed  the  ascent 
of  the  Highlands,  arriving  in  about  three  hours  at 
Lanauli  on  the  Bhore  Ghat.  At  Lanauli  we  found  a 
fairly  comfortable  hotel,  though  it  was  terribly  hot. 
What  made  the  heat  worse  was  that  most  of  the  houses 
at  Lanauli  were  covered  with  corrugated-iron  roofs, 
which  were  bad  for  clothes,  as  they  sweated  rusty 
drops  all  over  the  room,  which  left  long  stains  on  one's 
linen  and  dresses.  I  came  away  with  everything  ruined. 
The  air  was  delicious,  like  that  of  Sao  Paulo  or 
Damascus  in  the  spring. 

The  next  morning  we  were  up  and  off  at  dawn  to 
the  Karla  Caves.  There  was  brought  to  the  door  at 
dawn  for  Richard  a  jibbing,  backing  pony,  with  vicious 
eyes,  and  for  me  a  mangy  horse  like  a  knifeboard, 
spavined,  with  weak  legs,  and  very  aged,  but  neverthe- 
less showing  signs  of  "  blood."  On  top  of  this  poor 
beast  was  a  saddle  big  enough  for  a  girl  of  ten,  and  I, 
being  eleven  stone,  felt  ashamed  to  mount.  However, 
there  was  nothing  else  to  be  done.  We  rode  four  miles 
along  the  road,  and  then  crossed  a  river  valley  of  the 
mountains.  Here  we  descended,  and  had  to  climb  a 
goatlike  path  until  we  came  to  what  looked  like  a  gash 
or  ridge  in  the  mountain-side,  with  a  belt  of  trees. 


579 

When  we  got  to  the  top,  we  sat  on  the  stones,  facing 
one  of  the  most  wonderful  Buddhist  temples  in  India. 
It  was  shaped  just  like  our  cathedrals,  with  a  horseshoe 
roof  of  teak- wood,  which  has  defied  the  ravages  of  time. 
The  Brahmins  keep  this  temple.  On  either  side  of  the 
entrances  are  splendid  carved  lions,  larger  than  life. 
A  little  temple  outside  is  consecrated  by  the  Brahmins 
to  Devi.  We  were  not  allowed  to  go  nearer  to  this 
goddess  than  past  a  triangular  ornament  covered  with 
big  bells ;  but  they  lit  it  for  us  and  let  us  peep  in,  and 
it  disclosed  a  woman's  face  and  figure  so  horribly  ugly 
as  to  give  one  a  nightmare — a  large,  round,  red  face,  with 
squinting  glass  eyes,  open  mouth,  hideous  teeth,  and  a 
gash  on  her  cheek  and  forehead.  She  is  the  Goddess  of 
Destruction,  and  is  purposely  made  frightful. 

It  was  very  hot  returning.  My  poor  horse  suddenly 
faltered,  giving  a  wrench  to  my  back,  and  bringing 
my  heart  into  my  mouth  when  it  almost  sat  down 
behind.  We  passed  troops  of  Brinjari,  whose  pro- 
cession lasted  for  about  two  miles.  This  is  a  very 
strong,  wild  race,  which  only  marries  among  its  own 
tribe.  The  women  were  very  picturesquely  dressed, 
and  glared  at  me  defiantly  when  I  laughed  and  spoke 
to  them.  They  carried  their  babies  in  baskets  on  their 
heads.  We  got  home  about  II  a.m.,  so  that  we  had 
made  our  excursion  betimes. 

After  breakfast  and  bath  we  went  to  the  station. 
Soon  our  train  came  up,  and  after  a  two  and  a  half  hours' 
journey  through  the  Indrauni  river  valley  we  arrived 
at  Poonah.  The  next  day  we  drove  all  about  Poonah, 
and  went  to  see  the  Palace  of  the  Peshwas,  in  the 


580      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JSnrton 

Indian  bazar.  It  is  now  used  as  a  library  below  and 
a  native  law  courts  above.  Then  we  went  to  Parbat, 
the  Maharatta  chief's  palace.  There  are  three  pagodas 
in  this  building,  and  one  small  temple  particularly 
struck  me.  As  it  was  sunset  the  wild  yet  mournful 
sound  of  tom-tom  and  kettle  and  cymbal  and  reed 
suddenly  struck  up.  I  could  have  shut  my  eyes  and 
fancied  myself  in  camp  again  in  the  desert,  with  the 
wild  sword-dances  being  performed  by  the  Arabs. 

The  following  day  at  evening  we  left  Poonah  for 
Hyderabad.  We  travelled  all  night  and  next  day, 
and  arrived  towards  evening.  Hyderabad  lies  eighteen 
hundred  feet  above  sea-level.  As  most  people  know,  it 
is  by  far  the  largest  and  most  important  native  city  in 
India,  and  is  ruled  over  by  our  faithful  ally  the  Nizam. 
Richard  and  I  were  to  be  the  guests  of  Major  and 
Mrs.  Nevill  ;  and  our  kind  friends  met  us  cordially 
at  the  station.  In  those  days  Major  Nevill  was  the 
English  officer  who  commanded  the  Nizam's  troops  ; 
and  though  he  ranked  as  Major,  he  was  really 
Commander-in-chief,  having  no  one  over  him  except 
Sir  Salar  Jung.  Mrs.  Nevill  was  the  eldest  daughter 
of  our  talented  predecessor  in  the  Consulate  at  Trieste, 
Charles  Lever,  the  novelist.  She  was  most  charming, 
and  a  perfect  horsewoman.  We  had  delightful  quarters 
in  Major  Nevill's  "  compound."  The  rooms  were 
divided  into  sleeping-  and  bath-rooms,  and  tents  were 
thrown  out  from  either  entrance.  The  front  opened 
into  the  garden.  Two  servants,  a  man  and  a  woman, 
were  placed  at  our  disposal.  In  short,  nothing  was 
wanting  to  our  comfort.  That  night  we  went  to 


Snfcia  581 

a  dinner-party  and  ball  at  Government  House — Sir 
Richard  and  Lady  Meade's. 

Next  morning  we  were  up  betimes,  and  out  on 
elephants  to  see  the  town.  It  was  my  first  mount 
on  an  elephant,  and  my  sensations  were  decidedly  new. 
The  beasts  look  very  imposing  with  their  gaudy 
trappings ;  and  as  we  rode  through  Hyderabad  we 
were  most  cordially  greeted  by  all.  The  houses  were 
flat,  something  like  those  of  Damascus;  and  the  streets 
were  broad  and  spanned  by  high  arches,  whose  bold 
simplicity  was  very  striking.  The  Nizam's  palace,  at 
least  a  mile  long,  was  covered  with  delicate  tracery  ; 
and  many  a  mosque,  like  lacework,  rose  here  and 
there.  But  the  cachet  of  all  in  Hyderabad  was  size, 
boldness,  and  simplicity. 

After  inspecting  the  town  we  proceeded  to  the  palace 
of  Sir  Salar  Jung.  We  found  him  a  noble,  chivalrous, 
large-hearted  Arab  gentleman,  of  the  very  best  stamp ; 
and  throughout  our  stay  at  Hyderabad  he  was  most 
kind  to  us.  His  palace  contained  about  seven  courts 
with  fountains,  and  was  perfectly  magnificent ;  but 
unfortunately,  instead  of  being  furnished  with  oriental 
luxury,  which  is  so  grand  and  rich,  it  was  full  of 
European  things — glass,  porcelain,  and  bad  pictures. 
One  room,  however,  was  quite  unique  :  the  ceiling  and 
walls  were  thickly  studded  with  china — cups,  saucers, 
plates,  and  so  forth — which  would  have  aroused  the  envy 
of  any  china-maniac  in  London.  Sir  Salar  entertained  us 
to  a  most  luxurious  breakfast,  and  when  that  was  over 
showed  us  a  splendid  collection  of  weapons,  consisting 
of  swords,  sheaths,  and  daggers,  studded  with  gorgeous 


582       Ube  -Romance  of  -Jsabel  OLaDy  Burton 

jewels.  After  that  we  inspected  the  stables,  which 
reminded  me  somewhat  of  the  Burlington  Arcade,  for 
they  were  open  at  both  ends,  and  the  loose  boxes,  where 
the  shops  would  be,  opened  into  a  passage  running 
down  the  centre.  There  were  about  a  hundred 
thorough-bred  Arab  and  Persian  horses.  When  we 
left  Sir  Salar,  he  presented  me  with  four  bottles  of  attar 
of  roses. 

The  next  few  days  formed  a  round  of  festivity. 
There  were  breakfasts,  dinner-parties  at  the  Residency 
and  elsewhere,  with  a  little  music  to  follow,  and  many 
excursions.  Sir  Salar  Jung  lent  me  a  beautiful  grey 
Arab,  large,  powerful,  and  showy.  He  had  never 
before  had  a  side-saddle  on,  but  he  did  not  seem  to 
mind  it  a  bit.  Among  other  places  we  visited  the 
palace  of  the  Wikar  Shums  Ool  Umara,  one  of  the 
three  great  dignitaries  of  the  Nizam's  country,  where 
we  were  received  with  great  honour  by  a  guard  of 
soldiers  and  a  band  of  music.  The  Wikar  was  a  thin, 
small,  well-bred  old  gentleman,  with  a  yellow  silk  robe 
and  a  necklace  of  large  emeralds.  He  was  attended 
by  a  fat,  jolly  son  in  a  green  velvet  dressing-gown, 
and  one  tall,  thin,  sallow-faced  youth,  who  looked  like 
a  bird  with  the  pip.  We  had  a  capital  breakfast.  The 
hall  was  full  of  retainers  and  servants,  who  pressed  me 
to  eat  as  they  served  the  dishes,  and  "  Take  mutton 
cutlet,  'im  very  good  "  was  whispered  in  my  ear  with 
an  excellent  English  accent.  We  then  visited  the 
jewellery  of  the  palace,  a  most  beautiful  collection  ; 
and  the  sacred  armour,  which  surpasses  description. 
At  last  we  saw  something  very  unique — an  ostrich  race. 


•Jn&fa  583 

The  man  mounts,  sits  back,  puts  his  legs  under  the 
wings,  and  locks  his  feet  under  the  breast.  The  birds 
go  at  a  tremendous  pace,  and  kick  like  a  horse. 

The  next  day  we  witnessed  an  assault-of-arms.  There 
were  about  two  hundred  performers,  and  three  hundred 
to  look  on.  There  were  some  very  good  gymnastics, 
sword  exercises,  single-stick,  and  so  on.  They  also 
showed  us  some  cock-fighting,  and  indeed  all  sorts  of 
fighting.  They  fight  every  kind  of  animal,  goats, 
birds,  even  quails  and  larks,  which  are  very  plucky, 
and  want  to  fight  ;  but  they  pull  them  off  if  they  want 
to  ill-use  one  another  too  much.  I  did  not  care  to  see 
this,  and  went  away. 

The  next  day  we  drove  to  the  country  palace  of  the 
Amir  el  Kebir.  He  was  the  third  of  the  three  great 
men  in  Hyderabad,  who  jointly  managed  the  Nizam's 
affairs.  The  other  two  were  Sir  Salar  Jung,  Regent 
and  Prime  Minister,  and  the  Wikar  Shums  Ool  Umara. 
They  were  all  relations  of  the  Nizam.  Here  again  was 
a  beautiful  palace  in  gardens,  full  of  storks,  pigeons, 
and  other  birds.  Besides  birds,  there  were  flowers  ; 
and  all  the  gardens  and  terraces  were  covered  with 
their  beautiful  purple  Indian  honeysuckle.  We  in- 
spected the  town  also,  each  riding  on  a  separate  elephant. 
And  when  that  was  over  every  one  went  back  to  break- 
fast with  the  Amir  ;  and  a  charming  breakfast  it  was, 
with  delicious  mangoes.  Our  host  wore  a  lovely  cash- 
mere robe,  like  a  dressing-gown,  and  gorgeous  jewels. 

Our  last  recollections  of  Hyderabad  were  brilliant, 
for  Sir  Salar  Jung  gave  a  magnificent  evening  fete. 
One  of  the  large  courts  of  the  palace  was  illuminated  : 


584      TTbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

the  starlight  was  above  us,  the  blaze  of  wax  lights  and 
chandeliers  lit  up  every  hall  around  the  court,  and 
coloured  lamps  and  flowers  were  everywhere.  There 
was  a  nautch,  which  I  thought  very  stupid,  for  the  girls 
did  nothing  but  eat  sweetmeats,  and  occasionally  ran 
forward  and  twirled  round  for  a  moment  with  a  half- 
bold,  semi-conscious  look  ;  and  only  one  was  barely 
good-looking.  Perhaps  that  is  the  nautch  to  dance 
before  ladies;  but  in  Syria,  I  remember,  they  danced 
much  better  without  being  "  shocking."  We  had  a 
most  delicious  dinner  afterwards,  at  which  we  were 
waited  on  by  retainers  in  wild,  picturesque  costumes. 
When  that  was  over,  the  band  played.  We  walked 
about  and  conversed,  were  presented  with  attar  of 
roses,  and  went  home. 

The  next  morning  we  went  to  Secunderabad.  It  was 
a  prosperous  European  station,  with  three  regiments,  but 
nothing  interesting.  We  proceeded  on  elephants  to 
Golconda,  a  most  interesting  place  ;  but  as  no  European 
has  ever  been  permitted  to  enter  it,  I  can  only  describe 
what  we  were  allowed  to  see  without.  We  viewed  the 
town  from  outside,  and  saw  a  hill  covered  with  build- 
ings. The  throne-hall,  with  arched  windows,  they  say 
is  a  mere  shell.  The  King's  palace  and  defences  occupy 
the  mound  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  town.  The 
town  proper  is  on  the  flat  ground.  It  is  surrounded 
by  walls,  battlements,  and  towers,  and  reminded  me  of 
old  Damascus  and  Jerusalem.  In  it  dwells  many  an 
old  feudal  chief.  Past  these  walls  no  European  or 
Christian  has  ever  been  allowed.  The  Tombs  of  the 
Kings  are  very  ancient,  and  are  situated  outside  the 


town.  We  were  admitted  to  these,  and  they  reminded 
me  of  the  Tower  Tombs  of  Palmyra.  They  were 
enormous  domes,  set  on  a  square,  broad  base,  the  upper 
section  beautifully  carved,  or  covered  with  Persian  tiles, 
which  bore  Arabic  and  Hindustani  inscriptions.  Abdul- 
lah's tomb  and  that  of  his  mother  are  the  best.  The 
prevailing  style  in  both  is  a  dome  standing  on  an  oblong 
or  square,  both  of  grey  granite.  The  predominant 
colour  is  white,  and  in  some  cases  picked  out  with 
green.  There  was  also  a  beautiful  garden  of  palm  trees, 
and  a  labyrinth  of  arches.  We  wandered  about  this 
romantic  spot,  of  which  we  had  heard  so  much,  and 
thought  of  all  the  mines  and  riches  of  Golconda.  It 
was  a  balmy  night  when  we  were  there ;  fireflies 
spangled  the  domed  tombs  in  the  palm  gardens,  lit  by 
a  crescent  moon.  I  could  not  forget  that  I  was  in  the 
birthplace  of  the  famed  Koh-i-noor. 

We  returned  to  Hyderabad,  and  next  morning  we 
rose  at  four  o'clock,  and  took  the  train  at  seven  to 
return  to  Bombay.  Our  kind  host  and  hostess,  the 
Nevills,  and  Sir  Richard  Meade,  the  Governor,  came  to 
see  us  off.  We  had  a  comfortable  carriage,  and  the 
railway  officials  were  all  most  kind  and  civil;  but  the 
heat  was  so  great  that  they  were  walking  up  and 
down  periodically  to  arouse  the  passengers,  as  they  have 
occasionally  been  found  dead,  owing  to  the  heat  ;  and 
two  or  three  cases  happened  about  that  time. 

When  we  got  down  to  Bombay,  we  found  it  all  en  fete 
for  the  departure  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  who  was  then 
doing  his  celebrated  Indian  tour.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  enthusiasm  on  that  occasion.  The  Prince  was 


586       Ube  IRomance  of  5sabel  Xaos  Burton 

looking  strong  and  well,  brown,  handsome,  and  happy, 
and  every  inch  a  Royal  Imperial  Prince  and  future 
Emperor.  He  went  away  taking  with  him  the  hearts 
of  all  his  subjects  and  the  golden  opinions  of  all  true 
men  and  women. 

We  stayed  at  Bombay  some  little  time,  and  among 
other  things  we  visited  the  Towers  of  Silence,  or  Parsee 
charnel-house,  the  bury  ing-place  of  the  "  Fire  Wor- 
shippers," which  are  situated  on  a  hill-summit  outside 
Bombay.  We  ascended  by  a  giant  staircase,  half  a 
mile  long,  overhung  by  palms  and  tropical  vegetation. 
We  obtained  a  splendid  view  of  Bombay  from  this 
eminence,  which  we  should  have  enjoyed  had  it  not 
been  that  the  palms  immediately  around  us  were  thick 
with  myriads  of  large  black  vultures,  gorged  with 
corpses  of  the  small-pox  and  cholera  epidemic,  which 
was  then  raging  in  Bombay.  The  air  was  so  heavy 
with  their  breath  that  (though  people  say  it  was  im- 
possible) I  felt  my  head  affected  as  long  as  we  remained 
there.  These  myriads  of  birds  feed  only  on  corpses, 
and  of  necessity  they  must  breathe  and  exhale  what 
they  feed  upon.  They  fattened  upon  what  bare  con- 
tact with  would  kill  us  ;  they  clustered  in  thousands. 
This  burying-place,  or  garden,  was  full  of  public  and 
private  family  towers.  The  great  public  tower  is 
divided  into  three  circles,  with  a  well  in  the  middle. 
It  has  an  entrance  and  four  outlets  for  water.  First, 
there  is  a  place  for  clothes,  and  a  tank,  like  a  huge 
metal  barrel  lying  on  its  side.  Here  the  priests,  who 
are  the  operators,  leave  their  garments.  A  large  pro- 
cession of  Parsees,  having  accompanied  the  body  as  far 


Snfcia  587 

as  this  spot,  turn  and  wait  outside  the  tower.  The 
priests  then  place  the  body,  if  a  man,  in  the  first 
circle ;  if  a  woman,  in  the  second  circle  ;  if  a  child, 
in  the  third  :  in  the  centre  there  is  the  door,  well 
covered  with  a  grating.  The  priests  then  stay  and 
watch.  The  vultures  descend;  they  fly  round  the 
moment  they  see  a  procession  coming,  and  have  to 
be  kept  at  bay  until  the  right  moment.  The  body 
is  picked  clean  in  an  hour  by  these  vultures.  It  is 
considered  very  lucky  if  they  pick  out  the  right  eye 
first  instead  of  the  left,  and  the  fact  is  reported  by  the 
priests  to  the  sorrowing  relatives.  When  the  bones 
are  perfectly  clean,  a  Parsee  priest  pushes  them  into 
the  well.  When  the  rain  comes,  it  carries  off  the 
ashes  and  bones ;  and  the  water  runs  through  these  four 
outlets,  with  charcoal  at  the  mouths  to  purify  it,  before 
entering  and  defiling  the  earth,  which  would  become 
putrid  and  cause  fever.  The  Parsees  will  not  defile 
the  earth  by  being  buried  in  it,  and  consider  it  is 
an  honour  to  have  a  living  sepulchre.  The  vultures 
have  on  an  average,  when  there  is  no  epidemic,  about 
three  bodies  a  day,  so  that  they  can  never  be  said 
to  starve.  The  whole  thing  struck  me  as  being 
revolting  and  disgusting  in  the  extreme,  and  I  was 
glad  to  descend  from  this  melancholy  height  to 
Bombay. 

We  had  a  good  deal  of  gaiety  during  our  stay  in 
Bombay,  and  every  one  was  most  kind.  We  saw  many 
interesting  people,  and  made  many  pleasant  excursions, 
which  were  too  numerous  to  be  mentioned  in  detail 
here. 


588      ttbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  JBurton 

I  have  given  a  description  of  the  Parsee  burial- 
ground,  and  I  think  at  the  risk  of  being  thought 
morbid  that  I  must  also  describe  our  visit  to  the  Hindu 
Smashan,  or  burning-ground,  in  the  Sonapur  quarter, 
where  we  saw  a  funeral,  or  rather  a  cremation.  The 
corpse  was  covered  with  flowers,  the  forehead  reddened 
with  sandalwood,  and  the  mouth  blackened.  The 
bier  was  carried  by  several  men,  and  one  bore  sacred 
fire  in  an  earthenware  pot.  The  body  was  then  laid 
upon  the  pyre  ;  every  one  walked  up  and  put_a  little 
water  in  the  mouth  of  the  corpse,  just  as  we  throw 
dust  on  the  coffin  ;  they  then  piled  more  layers  of 
wood  on  the  body,  leaving  it  in  the  middle  of  the  pile. 
Then  the  relatives,  beginning  with  the  nearest,  took 
burning  brands  to  apply  to  the  wood,  and  the  corpse 
was  burned.  The  ashes  and  bones  are  thrown  into  the 
sea.  It  was  unpleasant,  but  not  nearly  so  revolting 
to  me  as  the  vultures  in  the  Parsee  burying-ground. 
All  the  mourners  were  Hindu  except  ourselves,  and 
they  stayed  and  watched  the  corpse  burning.  Shortly 
the  clothes  caught  fire,  and  then  the  feet.  After  that 
we  saw  no  more  except  a  great  blaze,  and  smelt  a  smell 
of  roasted  flesh,  which  mingles  with  the  sandalwood 
perfume  ot  Bombay.  The  Smashan,  or  burning- 
ground,  is  dotted  with  these  burning-places. 

A  very  interesting  visit  for  me  was  to  the  Pinjrapole, 
or  hospital  for  animals  sick,  maimed,  and  incurable.  It 
was  in  the  centre  of  the  native  quarter  of  Bombay,  and 
was  founded  forty  years  ago  by  Sir  Jamsetji  Jijibhoy, 
who  also  left  money  for  its  support.  I  was  told  that 
the  animals  here  were  neglected  and  starved  ;  but  we 


589 

took  them  quite  unawares,  and  were  delighted  to  find 
the  contrary  the  case.  There  were  old  bullocks  here 
that  had  been  tortured  and  had  their  tails  wrung 
off,  which  is  the  popular  way  in  Bombay  of  making 
them  go  faster.  There  were  orphan  goats  and  calves, 
starving  kittens  and  dogs.  The  blind,  the  maimed, 
the  wounded  of  the  animal  creation,  here  found  a 
home.  I  confess  that  I  admire  the  religion  that  believes 
in  animals  having  a  kind  of  soul  and  a  future,  and 
permits  their  having  a  refuge  where  at  least  no  one  can 
hurt  them,  and  where  they  can  get  food  and  shelter. 
God  is  too  just  to  create  things,  without  any  fault  of 
their  own,  only  for  slow  and  constant  torture,  for  death, 
and  utter  annihilation. 

Turning  now  to  society  at  Bombay,  and  indeed 
Indian  society  generally,  I  must  say  that  it  is  not  to  be 
outdone  for  hospitality.  There  is  a  certain  amount  of 
formality  about  precedence  in  all  English  stations,  and 
if  one  could  only  dispense  with  it  society  would  be 
twice  as  charming  and  attractive.  I  do  not  mean  of 
course  the  formality  of  etiquette  and  good-breeding, 
but  of  all  those  silly  little  conventions  and  rules  which 
arise  for  the  most  part  from  unimportant  people  trying 
to  make  themselves  of  importance.  Of  course  they 
make  a  great  point  about  what  is  called  "  official  rank  " 
in  India,  and  the  women  squabble  terribly  over  their 
warrants  of  precedence  :  the  gradations  thereof  would 
puzzle  even  the  chamberlain  of  some  petty  German 
court.  The  Anglo-Indian  ladies  of  Bombay  struck 
me  for  the  most  part  as  spiritless.  They  had  a  faded, 
washed-out  look;  and  I  do  not  wonder  at  it,  considering 


59°       zrbe  Romance  of  Isabel  XaDp  ^Burton 

the  life  they  lead.  They  get  up  about  nine,  breakfast 
and  pay  or  receive  visits,  then  tiffen,  siesta,  a  drive  to 
the  Apollo  Bunder,  to  hear  the  band,  or  to  meet  their 
husbands  at  the  Fort,  dine  and  bed — that  is  the  pro- 
gramme of  the  day.  The  men  are  better  because  they 
have  cricket  and  polo.  I  found  nobody  stiff  indivi- 
dually, but  society  very  much  so  in  the  mass.  The  order 
of  precedence  seemed  to  be  uppermost  in  every  mind, 
and  as  an  outsider  I  thought  how  tedious  "  ye  manners 
and  customs  of  ye  Anglo-Indians "  would  be  all  the 
year  round. 

I  found  the  native  populace  much  more  interesting. 
The  great  mass  consists  of  Konkani  Moslems,  with  dark 
features  and  scraggy  beards.  They  were  clad  in  chintz 
turbans,  resembling  the  Parsee  headgear,  and  in  long 
cotton  coats,  with  shoes  turned  up  at  the  toes,  and 
short  drawers  or  pyjamas.  There  were  also  Persians, 
with  a  totally  different  type  of  face,  and  clothed  in  quite 
a  different  way,  mainly  in  white  with  white  turbans. 
There  were  Arabs  from  the  Persian  Gulf,  sitting 
and  lolling  in  the  coffee-houses.  There  were  athletic 
Afghans,  and  many  other  strange  tribes.  There  were 
conjurers  and  snake-charmers,  vendors  of  pipes  and 
mangoes,  and  Hindu  women  in  colours  that  pale  those 
of  Egypt  and  Syria.  There  were  two  sorts  of  Parsees, 
one  white-turbaned,  and  the  other  whose  headgear  was 
black,  spotted  with  red.  I  was  much  struck  with  the 
immense  variety  of  turban  on  the  men,  and  thecholi  and 
headgear  on  the  women.  Some  of  the  turbans  were  of 
the  size  of  a  moderate  round  tea-table.  Others  fit  the 
head  tight.  Some  are  worn  straight,  and  some  are  cocked 


591 

sideways.  Some  are  red  and  horned.  The  choli  is  a 
bodice  which  is  put  on  the  female  child,  who  never 
knows  what  stays  are.  It  always  supports  the  bosom, 
and  she  is  never  without  it  day  or  night,  unless  after 
marriage,  and  whilst  she  is  growing  it  is  of  course 
changed  to  her  size  from  time  to  time.  They  are  of  all 
colours  and  shapes,  according  to  the  race.  No  English- 
woman could  wear  one,  unless  it  were  made  on  purpose 
for  her  ;  but  I  cannot  explain  why. 

Bombay  servants  are  dull  and  stupid.  They  always 
do  the  wrong  thing  for  preference.  They  break  every- 
thing they  touch,  and  then  burst  into  a  "  Yah,  yah, 
yah  !"  like  a  monkey.  If  you  leave  half  a  bottle  of  sherry, 
they  will  fill  it  up  with  hock,  and  say,  "  Are  they  not 
both  white  wines,  Sa'b  ?  "  If  you  call  for  your  tea,  the 
servant  will  bring  you  a  saucer,  and  stare  at  you.  If 
you  ask  why  your  tea  is  not  ready,  he  will  run  down- 
stairs and  bring  you  a  spoon,  and  so  on.  As  he  walks 
about  barefoot  you  never  hear  him  approach.  You 
think  you  are  alone  in  the  room,  when  suddenly  you 
are  made  to  jump  by  seeing  a  black  face  close  to  you, 
star-gazing.  If  you  have  a  visitor,  you  will  see  the 
door  slowly  open,  and  a  black  face  protruded  at  least 
six  times  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  They  are  intensely 
curious,  but  otherwise  as  stolid  as  owls. 

On  April  16  we  started  for  Mahabaleshwar,  the 
favourite  of  all  the  sanatoria  in  India,  save  the 
Neilgherries,  which  are  so  far  off  as  to  be  a  very 
expensive  journey  from  Bombay.  Mahabaleshwar,  in 
the  Western  Ghats,  is  therefore  largely  visited  by 
Europeans  from  Bombay.  We  left  Bombay  by  the 


592      Ube  Vomance  ot  Isabel  Xa^  JSurton 


1.15  express  train,  reaching  Poonah  in  seven  hours. 
The  air  was  like  blasts  out  of  a  heated  furnace.  We 
dined  at  Poonah  at  a  very  comfortable  inn.  The 
distance  from  Poonah  to  Mahabaleshwar  was  seventy- 
five  miles  by  road  ;  so  as  we  were  going  on  the  same 
evening  we  ordered  a  trap,  and  after  dinner  we  set 
forth. 

I  cannot  say  it  was  a  comfortable  journey,  for  the 
springs  of  the  trap  were  broken,  and  projections  were 
sticking  through  the  hard,  narrow  cushions  in  all  direc- 
tions into  our  unhappy  bodies.  Nevertheless  we  enjoyed 
the  drive  very  much.  It  was  a  charming  night,  the 
moon  late,  being  in  the  last  quarter.  We  saw  a  great 
Moslem  fete  coming  out  of  Poonah  at  night.  The 
hills  were  illuminated  in  patterns  and  letters.  We  slept 
when  it  was  dark,  and  I  remember  we  drank  a  great 
deal  of  water,  for  it  was  a  most  thirsty  night.  At 
6  a.m.  we  passed  a  wayside  bungalow  at  Soorool,  where 
we  brought  out  our  basket  and  tea,  and  had  milk  from 
the  cow  belonging  to  the  old  soldier  who  kept  the 
bungalow.  At  the  foot  of  the  third  steep  mountain, 
Pasarni,  we  passed  through  Wye  (Wahi),  one  of  the 
prettiest  and  most  interesting  places,  with  the  prettiest 
women  in  Western  India,  besides  being  a  village  of 
temples  and  holy  tanks.  The  general  effect  of  the 
temples,  which  were  strewn  about  in  all  sizes  and  shapes, 
was  that  of  a  series  of  blancmange  moulds. 

At  Wahi  we  alighted  from  the  trap,  and  our  ascent 
up  the  steep  Pasarni  Ghat  was  performed  for  us  by 
sixteen  coolies.  It  occupied  us  about  two  hours,  and 
was  very  hot  and  dusty,  and  cruelly  hard  work  ;  but 


593 

the  coolies  did  it  much  better  than  horses  could  have 
done.  Once  we  came  to  a  travelling  bungalow,  and 
stopped  a  few  minutes  to  tie  up  some  of  our  broken 
springs.  After  this  we  were  very  tired,  and  the  last 
thirteen  miles  seemed  almost  insupportable.  At  last 
we  entered  the  verdure  of  Mahabaleshwar  at  the  summit, 
4,780  feet  above  sea-level;  but  the  inaccessibility  of 
the  place  is  compensated  for  by  its  interest  when  you 
arrive  there,  just  as  Palmyra  is  more  precious  than 
Ba'albak. 

When  at  last  we  arrived  we  were  thoroughly  tired 
out.  We  dined,  and  went  to  bed.  We  had  been  out 
twenty-five  hours,  and  had  had  no  sleep  for  forty-one 
hours.  I  did  not  even  remember  the  end  of  my  dinner, 
and  I  have  no  recollection  of  how  I  got  into  bed  for 
very  sleepiness.  We  lodged  at  the  Mahabaleshwar 
Hotel,  which  was  very  cheap,  clean,  and  comfortable. 

The  next  morning  we  were  up  at  5  a.m.,  and  drove 
in  a  tonga,  a  sort  of  tea-cart,  with  small  tattoo  ponies, 
to  Elphinstone  Point,  and  to  see  the  temples.  It  was 
a  most  enjoyable  excursion  ;  but  it  was  quite  spoiled  for 
me  by  the  brutal  way  in  which  the  driver  beat  the  poor 
little  "  tats "  with  his  thick  cowhide  whip.  It  was 
misery  to  me.  I  got  quite  nervous ;  I  bullied  the 
driver,  took  his  whip  away,  promised  him  bakshish  if 
he  would  not  do  it,  and  finally  tried  to  drive  myself. 
Then  the  fcolish  ponies  stood  stock-still  directly  I  took 
the  reins,  and  would  not  budge  without  the  whip.  At 
this  point  Richard  cut  in,  and  swore  at  the  driver  for 
being  so  cruel,  and  scolded  me  for  spoiling  an  excursion 
by  my  ridiculous  sensibilities.  Then  my  fox-terrier  put 

38 


594      ttbe  Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

in  her  oar,  and  tried  to  bite  the  coachman  for  beating 
the  ponies ;  and  not  being  allowed,  she  laid  her  head  on 
my  shoulder  and  went  into  hysterics — the  tears  actually 
ran  down  her  cheeks.  We  had  a  grand  view  from 
Elphinstone  Point,  and  the  temples  also  were  interesting. 
We  were  glad  to  get  back  again  at  9  a.m.,  for  the  sun 
was  very  trying.  We  made  several  pleasant  excursions 
during  our  stay,  and  people  were  very  kind.  All  the 
same,  I  did  not  greatly  care  for  Mahabaleshwar.  There 
was  too  much  society ;  one  could  not  ruralize  enough. 
"Sets"  are  the  rule,  and  priggishness  is  rampant,  even 
in  the  primeval  forest.  Our  visit  was  a  brief  one,  and 
then  we  returned  to  Bombay. 

After  two  days  at  Bombay  Richard  and  I  set  sail  in 
the  British  Indian  Steamship  Company's  Rajpootna  for 
distant  and  deserted  Goa,  a  thirty-six  hours'  passage. 
It  was  a  calm,  fine  evening  when  we  started,  but  in- 
tensely hot.  The  next  day  there  was  a  heavy  swell, 
and  many  were  ill.  I  went  to  bed  thoroughly  tired 
out,  expecting  to  land  the  next  morning.  About  five 
o'clock,  as  the  captain  told  me  overnight  not  to  hurry 
myself,  I  got  up  leisurely.  Presently  a  black  steward 
came  down,  and  said  : 

"  Please,  ma'am,  the  agent's  here  with  your  boat  to 
convey  you  ashore.  The  captain  desired  me  to  say  that 
he's  going  to  steam  on  directly." 

I  was  just  at  the  stage  of  my  toilet  which  rendered 
it  impossible  for  me  to  open  the  door  or  come  out,  so 
I  called  through  the  keyhole : 

"  Please  go  with  my  compliments  to  the  captain, 
and  beg  him  to  give  me  ten  minutes  or  a  quarter 


595 


of    an    hour,    and    telJ    my    husband    what    is    the 


matter." 


"  I  will  go,  ma'am,"  he  answered  ;  "  but  I  am  afraid 
the  captain  can't  wait.  It  is  his  duty  to  go  on." 

"  Go !  "  I  shouted ;  and  he  went.    - 

In  two  minutes  down  came  the  negro  again. 

"  Captain  says  it's  impossible ;  in  fact  the  ship's 
moving  now." 

Well,  as  we  were  tied  to  time  and  many  other  things, 
and  could  not  afford  to  miss  our  landing,  I  threw  on  a 
shawl  and  a  petticoat,  as  one  might  in  a  shipwreck,  and 
rushed  out  with  my  hair  down,  crying  to  the  steward  : 

"  Bundle  all  my  things  into  the  boat  as  well  as  you 
can;  and  if  anything  is  left,  take  it  back  to  the  hotel  at 
Bombay." 

I  hurried  on  deck,  and  to  my  surprise  found  that 
the  steamer  was  not  moving  at  all.  Richard  and  the 
captain  were  quietly  chatting  together,  and  when  they 
saw  me  all  excited  and  dishevelled  they  asked  me  the 
cause  of  my  undress  and  agitation.  When  I  told  them, 
the  captain  said : 

"  I  never  sent  any  message  of  the  kind.  I  told  you 
last  night  I  should  steam  on  at  seven,  and  it  is  now 
only  five." 

I  was  intensely  angry  at  the  idea  of  a  negro  servant 
playing  such  a  practical  joke.  I  was  paying  £10  for 
a  thirty-six  hours'  passage ;  and  as  I  always  treated 
everybody  courteously,  it  was  quite  uncalled  for  and 
unprovoked.  I  thought  it  exceedingly  impertinent,  and 
told  the  captain  so.  Nevertheless  he  did  not  trouble 
to  inquire  into  the  matter.  The  Bishop  of  Ascalon, 


596      Ube  IRomance  of  Ssabel  Xaos  Burton 

Vicar-Apostolic  at  Bombay,  was  on  board,  and  I  told 
him  about  it,  and  he  said  that  he  had  been  treated  just 
in  the  same  way  a  year  before  on  the  same  spot.  The 
idea  that  such  things  should  be  allowed  is  a  little  too 
outrageous.  Suppose  that  I  had  been  a  delicate  and 
nervous  passenger  with  heart  complaint,  it  might  have 
done  me  a  great  deal  of  harm. 

A  large  boat  arrived  to  take  us  and  our  baggage 
ashore.  We  were  cast  adrift  in  the  open  sea  on  account 
of  a  doubtful  shoal.  We  had  eight  miles  to  row  before 
we  could  reach  Goa.  Fortunately  there  was  no  storm. 
We  rowed  a  mile  and  a  half  of  open  sea,  five  miles  of 
bay,  and  one  and  a  half  of  winding  river,  and  at  last 
landed  on  a  little  stone  pier  jutting  a  few  yards  into  the 
water.  We  found  a  total  absence  of  anything  at  Goa 
but  the  barest  necessaries  of  life.  There  was  no  inn  and 
no  tent.  We  had  either  to  sleep  in  our  filthy  open 
boat,  or  take  our  tents  and  everything  with  us.  Goa 
is  not  healthy  enough  to  sleep  out  al  fresco.  Fortu- 
nately a  kind-hearted  man,  who  was  the  agent  of  the 
steamers,  and  his  wife,  seeing  the  plight  we  were  in, 
conceded  us  a  small  room  in  their  house  with  their 
only  spare  single  bed.  Luckily  we  had  one  of  those 
large  straw  Pondicherry  reclining- chairs,  which  I  had 
just  bought  from  the  captain  of  the  steamer,  and  a  rug  ; 
so  Richard  and  I  took  the  bed  in  turns  night  about, 
the  other  in  the  chair.  We  did  not  mind  much,  for 
we  had  come  to  see  Goa,  and  were  used  to  roughing  it ; 
but  I  confess  that  I  like  roughing  it  better  out  of  doors 
than  inside.  There  was  little  to  be  bought  in  Goa  ; 
but  all  that  the  residents  had  to  give  they  offered  with 


597 

alacrity.  It  is  the  worst  climate  I  ever  was  in,  and  I 
have  experienced  many  bad  ones.  The  thermometer  was 
not  nearly  so  high  as  I  have  known  it  in  other  places, 
but  the  depression  was  fearful.  There  was  not  a 
breath  of  air  in  Goa  even  at  night,  and  the  thirst  was 
agonizing ;  even  the  water  was  hot,  and  the  more  one 
drank  the  more  one  wanted  :  it  was  a  sort  of  purgatory. 
I  cannot  think  how  the  people  manage  to  live  there  : 
the  place  was  simply  dead\  there  is  no  other  word 
for  it.  Of  all  the  places  I  have  ever  been  to,  in 
sandy  deserts  and  primeval  forests,  Goa  was  the  worst. 
However,  Richard  wanted  to  revisit  it,  and  I  wanted 
to  see  it  also  with  a  particular  object,  which  was  to 
pay  my  respects  to  the  shrine  of  the  Apostle  of  India, 
St.  Francis  Xavier,  which  is  situated  in  Old  Goa. 

We  hired  the  only  horse  in  the  country,  a  poor  old 
screw  of  a  pony,  broken  down  by  mange  and  starvation 
and  sores ;  and  we  harnessed  him  to  the  only  vehicle  we 
could  find,  a  small  open  thing  of  wood  made  in  the  year 
i  B.C.,  with  room  for  two  persons  only.  The  wheels 
were  nearly  off,  and  the  spring  of  one  side  was  broken. 
The  harness  was  made  of  old  rusty  chains  and  bits  of 
string  tied  together.  Our  coachman  and  footman  were 
two  boys  in  little  dirty  shirts,  with  something  round 
the  loins  kept  together  with  bits  of  twine,  and  bare  legs 
peeping  out  underneath  like  two  sticks  of  chocolate. 

Our  first  drive  was  to  Cazalem,  a  place  which  re- 
minded me  of  the  Barra  at  Santos,  in  Brazil.  Here 
several  Europeans  lived,  I  mean  native  Portuguese, 
mainly  officials  of  the  Government.  As  Richard  wrote 
a  book  about  Goa  when  he  was  there  some  thirty 


598      TTbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  JSurton 

years  before,  there  is  not  much  that  I  can  add  to 
his  description  of  the  place. 

Our  next  drive  was  to  Old  Goa,  where  is  the  tomb 
of  St.  Francis  Xavier.  Nothing  is  left  of  Old  Goa  but 
churches  and  monasteries.  In  the  distance,  with  its 
glittering  steeples  and  domes,  it  looks  a  grand  place ; 
but  when  we  entered  it,  I  found  it  to  be  a  city  of  the 
dead — indeed  it  was  the  very  abomination  of  desolation. 
The  Bom  Jesus  is  the  church  dedicated  to  St.  Francis 
Xavier,  my  favourite  saint,  on  account  of  his  conversion 
of  so  many  unbelievers.  It  is  after  the  same  pattern 
as  all  other  Portuguese  churches,  a  long,  whitewashed, 
barn-shaped  building.  The  object  of  my  devotion,  the 
tomb,  is  contained  in  a  recess  on  a  side  of  the  altar 
dedicated  to  Xavier,  and  consists  of  a  magnificently 
carved  silver  sarcophagus,  enriched  with  alto  relievi, 
representing  different  acts  of  the  Saint's  life.  Inside  is 
a  gold  box  containing  the  remains  of  the  Saint,  shown 
to  people  with  a  great  feast  once  in  a  century. 

We  made  many  excursions  around  and  about  Goa. 
In  consequence  of  the  dreadful  climate  they  had  of 
course  to  be  either  very  early  or  very  late.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  moonlight  scenery  of  the  distant  bay. 
The  dull  grey  piles  of  ruined,  desolate  habitations, 
the  dark  hills  clothed  with  a  semi-transparent  mist, 
the  little  streams  glistening  like  lines  of  silver  over  the 
plain,  and  the  purple  surface  of  the  creek — such  was  our 
night  picture  of  Goa.  We  made  two  boat  expeditions 
together — one  to  see  a  coffee  plantation,  in  which  is 
a  petrified  forest.  Each  expedition  occupied  two  or 
three  days.  We  embarked  for  the  first  in  a  filthy 


599 

boat,  full  of  unmentionable  vermin,  and  started  down 
the  river  in  the  evening,  with  storms  of  thunder 
and  lightning  and  wind  preluding  the  monsoon.  On 
arrival  we  toiled  up  two  miles  of  steep,  rocky  paths 
through  cocoa  groves.  At  the  bottom  of  the  hill  was 
a  little  rivulet,  and  pieces  of  petrified  wood  were 
sticking  to  the  bank.  As  we  ascended  the  hill  again 
we  found  the  petrifications  scattered  all  over  the 
ground ;  they  were  composed  chiefly  of  palms  and 
pines  ;  and  most  interesting  they  were.  We  returned 
from  this  expedition  with  our  skins  in  a  state  of 
eruption  from  the  bites  of  the  lice  and  the  stings  of 
the  mosquitoes. 

Our  last  day  at  Goa  was  a  very  pleasant  one.  We 
had  received  a  telegram  saying  the  steamer  would 
pass  outside  Goa  at  midnight,  and  would  pick  us  up 
for  the  return  journey  to  Bombay.  These  steamers 
are  due  once  a  fortnight,  and  this  one  was  long  past 
her  time.  Everybody  was  sorry  that  we  were  leaving, 
and  we  had  great  hospitality.  In  the  morning  we  were 
entertained  at  breakfast  by  a  gentleman  who  owned  the 
largest  and  the  best  house  in  Goa.  We  had  every 
variety  of  native  food  and  fruit  in  abundai  ^e,  good 
cool  air  and  water — the  latter  produced  by  hanging  the 
earthen  water-bottles  in  the  window,  clothed  with  wet 
hay  or  grass.  We  were,  in  all,  ten  at  table,  native  and 
European.  Then  the  heat  came  on,  and  we  had  to 
retire.  In  the  evening  we  were  taken  for  an  excursion 
in  a  boat  to  Cazalem.  We  coasted  along  for  an  hour, 
and  sang  glees  under  a  fine  moon,  accompanied  by  a 
heavy  swell.  We  were  carried  ashore  on  the  shoulders 


600      Ube  iRomance  ot  Ssabel  Xaog  Burton 

of  the  natives,  and  were  heralded  first  by  the  watch- 
dogs and  then  by  the  European  inmates,  who  did  not 
expect  us.  They  were  assembled  in  the  verandah 
playing  cards  by  the  light  of  torches.  We  passed  a 
merry  evening,  and  returned  to  Goa  by  carriage.  The 
seat  gave  way,  and  we  had  to  sit  on  the  edges. 

On  our  return  the  night  was  dark,  but  we  at  once 
started  in  a  large  open  boat,  with  four  men  to  row  and 
one  to  steer,  to  reach  our  steamer  bound  for  Bombay, 
which,  as  I  have  already  explained,  did  not  pass  nearer 
Goa  than  eight  miles.  We  rowed  down  the  river, 
and  then  across  the  bay  for  three  hours,  against  wind 
and  tide,  bow  on  to  heavy  rollers,  and  at  last  reached 
the  mouth  of  the  bay,  where  is  the  Fort.  We  remained 
bobbing  about  in  the  open  sea  in  the  trough  of  the 
great  waves  for  a  considerable  time,  and  a  violent  storm 
of  rain,  thunder,  and  lightning  came  on,  so  we  put  back 
to  the  Fort  to  find  shelter  under  some  arches.  Then 
we  went  to  sleep,  leaving  the  boat  wdld  to  watch  for  the 
steamer. 

At  1.30  I  was  awakened  by  the  sound  of  a  gun 
booming  across  the  water.  I  sprang  up  and  aroused  the 
others  ;  but  we  could  not  see  the  lights  of  the  steamer, 
and  turned  to  sleep.  An  officer  passed  out  of  the  Fort, 
and  I  fancied  he  said  to  another  man  that  the  ship  was 
in  ;  but  he  only  looked  at  us  and  passed  on.  Presently 
I  felt  more  fidgety,  and  making  a  trumpet  of  my  hands 
I  called  out  to  the  Secretary,  who  answered  back  that  the 
ship  had  been  laying  to  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  and 
that  we  should  have  gone  off  when  the  gun  fired. 
People  are  so  lazy  and  indolent  in  this  climate  that  he 


Snfeia  60 1 

did  not  trouble  to  let  us  know  it  before,  though  he  was 
left  there  for  that  purpose.  If  we  had  not  happened 
to  have  the  mails  and  the  agent  with  us  in  the  boat,  the 
ship  would  have  gone  on  without  us,  which  would  have 
been  an  appalling  disaster.  So  I  stirred  them  up,  and 
we  were  soon  under  way  again  and  out  to  sea.  By-and-by 
I  saw  the  lights  of  the  steamer,  which  looked  about  three 
miles  off.  Knowing  the  independence  of  these  captains 
and  the  futility  of  complaints,  I  trembled  lest  the 
steamer  should  put  farther  to  sea,  and  determined  that 
no  effort  of  mine  should  be  spared  to  prevent  it. 

Richard  slept  or  pretended  to  sleep,  and  so  did  some 
of  the  others ;  but  I  managed  adroitly  to  be  awk- 
ward with  the  boat-hook,  and  occasionally  to  prick 
their  shins.  I  urged  the  boat  wdlds  on  with  perpetual 
promises  of  bakshish.  Everybody  except  myself  was 
behaving  with  oriental  calm,  and  leaving  it  to  Kismet. 
It  was  of  no  use  doing  anything  to  Richard,  so  I 
pitched  into  the  Secretary,  who  really  had  been  most 
kind. 

"  Can't  you  shout  c  Mails ! '  '  I  cried  to  him,  as  we 
got  nearer.  "They  might  hear  you.  You  can  shout 
loud  enough. when  nobody  wants  to  hear  you." 

At  last,  after  an  hour  of  anxiety,  we  reached  the  ship  ; 
but  heavy  seas  kept  washing  us  away  from  the  ladder. 
No  one  had  the  energy  to  hold  on  to  the  rope,  or  hold 
the  boat-hook  to  keep  us  close  to  her,  so  at  last  I  did  it 
myself,  Richard  laughing  all  the  while  at  their  supine- 
ness,  and  at  my  making  myself  so  officious  and  energetic. 
But  it  was  absolutely  necessary.  An  English  sailor 
threw  me  the  rope.  "  Thanks,"  I  cried,  as  I  took 


6oa      trbe  IRomance  of  -Jsabel  Xafcg  JBurton 

advantage  of  an  enormous  wave  to  spring  on  to  the 
ladder  ;  "  I  am  the  only  man  in  the  boat  to-night." 
All  came  on  board  with  us,  and  we  had  a  parting 
stirrup-cup,  in  which  they  drank  my  health  as  "  the 
only  man  in  the  boat."  We  then  said  farewell  to  our 
friends  and  to  Goa. 

We  stayed  at  Bombay  no  longer  than  was  absolutely 
necessary,  and  we  embarked  on  our  return  journey  to 
Trieste  in  the  Austrian  Lloyd's  Minerva.  It  was  an 
uneventful  voyage,  take  it  altogether.  There  were  a 
good  many  passengers  on  board,  who  grumbled  greatly 
at  the  food,  as  the  manner  is,  and  it  was  certainly  a 
very  hot  and  uncomfortable  voyage.  We  stopped  at 
Aden  again,  and  passed  Jeddah.  Thence  we  steamed  to 
Suez,  where  we  anchored. 

Here  Richard  and  myself  and  six  others  left  the  ship 
to  have  a  little  run  through  Egypt,  and  we  were  soon 
surrounded  by  a  number  of  Richard's  old  friends  of 
Mecca  days.  It  was  a  lovely  evening  when  we  landed, 
familiar  to  all  who  know  Suez,  with  its  blue  sea,  yellow 
sands,  azure  sky,  and  pink-and-purple  mountains.  Our 
visit  was  to  Moses'  Wells,  about  three  miles  in  the 
Arabian  Desert — a  most  picturesque  spot,  surrounded 
by  tropical  verdure,  intermingled  with  fellah  huts.  The 
most  romantic  spot  was  a  single  tiny  spring  under 
an  isolated  palm  tree,  all  alone  on  a  little  hillock  of 
sand  in  the  desert,  far  from  all  else.  I  said  to  Richard, 
"  That  tree  and  that  spring  have  been  created  for  each 
other,  like  you  and  I."  We  took  our  kayf  for  some 
hours  with  the  Arabs,  and  we  had  some  delicious  Arab 
coffee  and  narghileh  with  them. 


603 

We  remained  a  fortnight  in  Egypt,  or  rather  more  ; 
and  after  then  we  embarked  in  another  Lloyd's,  the 
Apollo,  for  Trieste,  where  we  arrived  very  quickly. 
I  was  glad  to  get  back  to  the  beautiful  little  city 
again,  to  receive  the  ever-warm  greetings  of  our 
friends. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

TRIESTE  AGAIN 
(1876—1880) 

The  busy  fingers  fly;  the  eyes  may  sec 

Only  the  glancing,  needle  that  they  hold; 

But  all  my  life  is  blossoming  inwardly, 

And  every  breath  is  like  a  litany; 

While  through  each  labour,  like  a  thread  of  gold, 

Is  woven  the  sweet  consciousness  of  thee. 

ON  their  return  from  India  Isabel  and  her  husband 
settled  down  at  Trieste,  and  pursued  for  the 
most  part  a  quiet  literary  life.  It  was  summer,  and 
they  swam  a  good  deal  by  way  of  recreation,  and  went 
frequently  to  Op^ina.  They  started  a  habit  of  not 
dining  at  home,  and  of  asking  their  intimates  to  meet 
them  at  one  cafe  or  another,  where  they  would  sup 
in  the  open  air,  and  drink  the  wine  of  the  country 
and  smoke  cigarettes.  These  pleasant  evenings  were 
quite  a  feature  of  their  life  at  this  time.  Their  house 
too  became  the  centre  of  many  a  reunion,  and  a  Mecca 
to  which  many  a  literary  pilgrim  and  social,  scientific, 
and  political  celebrity  turned  his  steps  when  travelling 
by  way  of  Trieste.  There  is  no  better  description  of  the 

604 


{Trieste  Hgatn  605 

Burtons'  life  at  Trieste  at  this  time  than  that  which 
appeared  in  The  World  in  1877,  written  by  Burton's 
old  Oxford  friend,  Mr.  Alfred  Bates  Richards.  Lady 
Burton  has  quoted  it  in  full  in  her  Life  of  her  husband  ; 
but  I  think  that  a  small  part  of  it  which  relates  to 
herself  will  bear  repeating  here  : 

"  Captain  and  Mrs.  Burton  are  well,  if  airily,  lodged 
in  a  flat  composed  of  ten  rooms,  separated  by  a  corridor, 
with  a  picture  of  our  Saviour,  a  statuette  of  St.  Joseph 
with  a  lamp,  and  the'  Madonna  with  another  lamp 
burning  before  it.  Thus  far  the  belongings  are  all 
of  the  Cross ;  but  no  sooner  are  we  landed  in  the 
little  drawing-rooms  than  signs  of  the  Crescent  appear. 
Small,  but  artistically  arranged,  the  rooms,  opening  in 
to  one  another,  are  bright  with  oriental  hangings,  with 
trays  and  dishes  of  gold  and  silver,  brass  trays  and 
goblets,  chibouques  with  great  amber  mouthpieces,  and 
all  kinds  of  Eastern  treasures  mingled  with  family 
souvenirs.  There  is  no  carpet ;  but  a  Bedawin  rug 
occupies  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  vies  in  brilliancy 
of  colour  with  Persian  enamels  and  bits  of  good  old 
china.  There  are  no  sofas,  but  plenty  of  divans 
covered  with  Damascus  stuffs.  Thus  far  the  interior 
is  as  Mussulman  as  the  exterior  is  Christian  ;  but  a 
curious  effect  is  produced  among  the  oriental  mise  en 
seine  by  the  presence  of  a  pianoforte  and  a  compact 
library  of  well-chosen  books.  There  is  too  another 
library  here,  greatly  cherished  by  Mrs.  Burton  ;  to  wit, 
a  collection  of  her  husband's  works  in  about  fifty 
volumes.  On  the  walls  there  are  many  interesting 
relics,  medals,  and  diplomas  of  honour,  one  of  which 


606      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

is  especially  prized  by  Captain  Burton.  It  is  the  brevet 
de  fointe  earned  in  France  for  swordsmanship.  Near 
this  hangs  a  picture  of  the  Damascus  home  of  the 
Burtons,  by  Frederick  Leighton. 

<f  As  the  guest  is  inspecting  this  bright  bit  of  colour, 
he  will  be  aroused  by  the  full  strident  tones  of  a  voice 
skilled  in  many  languages,  but  never  so  full  and  hearty 
as  when  bidding  a  friend  welcome.  The  speaker, 
Richard  Burton,  is  a  living  proof  that  intense  work, 
mental  and  physical,  sojourn  in  torrid  and  frozen 
climes,  danger  from  dagger  and  from  pestilence,  '  age  ' 
a  person  of  good  sound  constitution  far  less  than  may 
be  supposed.  .  .  . 

"  Leading  the  way  from  the  drawing-rooms,  or  divans, 
he  takes  us  through  bedrooms  and  dressing-rooms 
furnished  in  Spartan  simplicity,  with  the  little  iron 
bedsteads  covered  with  bear-skins,  and  supplied  with 
writing-tables  and  lamps,  beside  which  repose  the 
Bible,  the  Shakspeare,  the  Euclid,  and  the  Breviary, 
which  go  with  Captain  and  Mrs.  Burton  on  all  their 
wanderings.  His  gifted  wife,  one  of  the  Arundells  of 
Wardour,  is,  as  becomes  a  scion  of  an  ancient  Anglo- 
Saxon  and  Norman  Catholic  house,  strongly  attached 
to  the  Church  of  Rome  ;  but  religious  opinion  is  never 
allowed  to  disturb  the  peace  of  the  Burton  household, 
the  head  of  which  is  laughingly  accused  of  Mohammed- 
anism by  his  friends.  The  little  rooms  are  completely 
lined  with  rough  deal  shelves,  containing  perhaps  eight 
thousand  or  more  volumes  in  every  Western  language, 
as  well  as  in  Arabic,  Persian,  and  Hindustani.  Every 
odd  corner  is  piled  with  weapons,  guns,  pistols,  boar- 


Urieste  again  607 

spears,  swords  of  every  shape  and  make,  foils  and  masks, 
chronometers,  barometers,  and  all  kinds  of  scientific 
instruments.  One  cupboard  is  full  of  medicines  neces- 
sary for  oriental  expeditions  or  for  Mrs.  Burton's  Trieste 
poor,  and  on  it  is  written  *  The  Pharmacy.'  Idols 
are  not  wanting,  for  elephant-nosed  Gumpati  is  there 
cheek  by  jowl  with  Vishnu. 

"The  most  remarkable  objects  in  the  room  just 
alluded  to  are  the  rough  deal  tables,  which  occupy 
most  of  the  floor  space.  They  are  almost  like  kitchen 
or  ironing  tables.  There  may  be  eleven  of  them,  each 
covered  with  writing  materials.  At  one  of  them  sits 
Mrs.  Burton,  in  morning  neglige,  a  grey  choga — the 
long  loose  Indian  dressing-gown  of  camel's  hair — 
topped  by  a  smoking-cap  of  the  same  material.  She 
rises  and  greets  her  husband's  old  friend  with  the 
cheeriest  voice  in  the  world.  *  I  see  you  are  looking 
at  our  tables ;  every  one  does.  Dick  likes  a  separate 
table  for  every  book,  and  when  he  is  tired  of  one  he 
goes  to  another.  There  are  no  tables  of  any  size  in 
Trieste,  so  I  had  these  made  as  soon  as  I  came.  They 
are  so  nice.  We  may  upset  the  ink-bottles  as  often  as 
we  like  without  anybody  being  put  out  of  the  way. 
These  three  little  rooms  are  our  "  den,"  where  we  live, 
work,  and  receive  our  intimes ;  and  we  leave  the  doors 
open,  so  that  we  may  consult  over  our  work.  Look  at 
our  view  !  '  From  the  windows,  looking  landward, 
one  may  see  an  expanse  of  country  extending  over 
thirty  or  forty  miles,  the  hills  covered  with  foliage, 
through  which  peep  trim  villas.  Beyond  the  hills 
higher  mountains  dotted  with  villages,  a  bit  of  the 


608      Ube  IRomancc  ot  Isabel  Xafrg  Burton 

wild  Karso  peering  from  above.  On  the  other  side 
lies  spread  the  Adriatic,  with  Miramar,  poor  Maxi- 
milian's home  and  hobby,  lying  on  a  rock  projecting 
into  the  blue  water,  and  on  the  opposite  coast  are 
the  Carnian  Alps,  capped  with  snow.  f  Why  we  Jive 
so  high  up/  explained  Captain  Burton,  c  is  easily 
explained.  To  begin  with,  we  are  in  good  condition, 
and  run  up  and  down  stairs  like  squirrels.  We  live 
on  the  fourth  storey  because  there  is  no  fifth.  If  I  had 
a  campagna,  and  gardens  and  servants,  and  horses  and 
carriages,  I  should  feel  tied,  weighed  down  in  fact. 
With  a  flat  and  two  or  three  maid-servants  one  has 
only  to  lock  the  door  and  go.  It  feels  like  "  light 
marching  order,"  as  if  we  were  always  ready  for  an 
expedition  ;  and  it  is  a  comfortable  place  to  come 
back  to.  Look  at  our  land-and-sea-scape  :  we  have  air, 
light,  and  tranquillity  ;  no  dust,  no  noise,  no  street 
smells.  Here  my  wife  receives  something  like  seventy 
very  intimate  friends  every  Friday — an  exercise  of 
hospitality  to  which  I  have  no  objection  save  one,  and- 
that  is  met  by  the  height  we  live  at.  There  is  in  every 
town  a  lot  of  old  women  of  both  sexes,  who  sit  for 
hours  talking  about  the  weather  and  the  scandal  of  the 
place,  and  this  contingent  cannot  face  the  stairs.'  .  .  . 

"  The  menage  Burton  is  conducted  on  the  early  rising 
principle.  About  four  or  five  o'clock  our  hosts  are 
astir,  and  already  in  their  '  den,'  drinking  tea  made 
over  a  spirit-lamp,  and  eating  bread  and  fruit,  reading 
and  studying  languages.  By  noon  the  morning's  work 
is  got  over,  including  the  consumption  of  a  cup  of 
soup,  the  ablution  without  which  no  true  believer  is 


Trieste  Hgain  609 

happy,  and  the  obligations  of  a  Prankish  toilet.  Then 
comes  a  stroll  to  the  fencing-school,  kept  by  an 
excellent  broadswordsman,  an  old  German  trooper. 
For  an  hour  Captain  and  Mrs.  Burton  fence  in  the 
school,  if  the  weather  be  cold  ;  if  it  be  warm,  they 
make  for  the  water,  and  often  swim  for  a  couple 
of  hours. 

"  Then  comes  a  spell  of  work  at  the  Consulate.  '  I 
have  my  Consulate,'  the  chief  explains,  'in  the  heart 
of  the  town.  I  do  not  want  my  Jack  Tar  ii  my 
sanctum ;  and  when  he  wants  me  he  has  generally  been 
on  the  spree,  and  got  into  trouble.'  While  the  husband 
is  engaged  in  his  official  duties,  the  wife  is  i  broad 
promoting  a  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to 
Animals,  a  necessary  institution  in  southern  countries, 
where,  on  the  purely  gratuitous  hypothesis  th,it  the 
so-called  lower  animals  have  no  souls,  the  utmost 
brutality  is  shown  in  the  treatment  of  them.  f  You 
see,'  remarks  our  host,  *  that  my  wife  and  I  are  like 
an  elder  and  younger  brother  living  en  garfon.  We 
divide  the  work.  I  take  all  the  hard  and  the  scientific 
part,  and  make  her  do  all  the  rest.  When  we  have 
worked  all  day,  and  have  said  all  we  have  to  say  to  each 
other,  we  want  relaxation.  To  that  end  we  have  foi  med 
a  little  "  Mess  "  with  fifteen  friends  at  the  table  d'hoti 
of  the  Hotel  de  la  Ville,  where  we  get  a  good  dinner 
and  a  pint  of  the  country  wine  made  on  the  hillside 
for  a  florin  and  a  half.  By  this  plan  we  escape  the 
bore  of  housekeeping,  and  are  relieved  from  the  cune 
of  domesticity,  which  we  both  hate.  At  dinner  Y,  e 
hear  the  news  if  any,  take  our  coffee,  cigarettes,  ai  i 

39 


6io       tTbe  TComance  of  Ssabel  Xafcs  Burton 


kirsch  outside  the  hotel,  then  go  ^ome  and  read  our- 
selves to  sleep,  and  to-morrow  da  capo.'  ' 

This  summer,  while  at  Gorizia,  Isabel  saw  again  the 
Comte  de  Chambord  (Henri  V.  of  France)  and  the 
Comtesse.  She  had  been  received  by  them  at  Venice 
before  her  marriage,  and  they  remembered  her  and  sent 
for  her.  They  were  staying  at  Gorizia  with  a  small 
Court.  Isabel  had  an  audience  of  them  twice,  and  they 
desired  that  she  should  dine  with  them.  She  had  to 
explain  that  she  had  nothing  but  a  travelling-dress  ;  but 
they  waived  that  objection,  and  allowed  her  to  "  come 
as  she  was."  This  incident  will  seem  a  small  thing  to 
many;  but  it  was  a  great  thing  to  Isabel,  for  like  many 
members  of  old  English  Catholic  families,  she  was  a 
strong  Legitimist,  and  she  appreciated  the  kindness 
which  was  shown  to  her  by  this  king  and  queen  de  jure 
with  their  shadowy  Court  and  handful  of  faithful 
followers,  more  than  if  they  had  come  into  their  own 
and  received  her  royally  at  the  Tuileries. 

A  little  later  Burton  took  it  into  his  head  to  make 
an  expedition  to  Midian  in  Arabia.  Many  years  before, 
in  his  Arab  days,  Burton  had  come  upon  this  golden 
land  (though  at  that  time  he  thought  little  of  gold  and 
much  of  reputation);  and  a  quarter  of  a  century  later, 
seeing  Egypt  suffering  from  lack  of  the  precious  metal, 
and  knowing  that  Midian  belonged  to  Egypt,  he  asked 
leave  of  the  Foreign  Office  to  go  to  Cairo,  where  he 
imparted  his  views  on  the  subject  of  the  wealth  of  the 
Mines  of  Midian  to  Khedive  Ismail.  His  Highness 
was  so  much  impressed  that  he  equipped  an  expedition 


Trieste  Hgain  6n 

in  a  few  days,  and  sent  Burton  to  explore  the  land. 
His  report  of  the  possibilities  of  the  Mines  of  Midian 
was  so  promising  that  the  Khedive  engaged  him  to 
come  back  the  following  winter,  and  himself  applied 
to  the  English  Foreign  Office  for  the  loan  of  Burton's 
services.  Burton  accordingly  went  again  to  Midian, 
and  discovered  the  region  of  gold  and  silver  and  pre- 
cious stones.  He  sketched  the  whole  country,  planned 
an  expedition,  and  brought  back  various  metals  for 
analysis.  The  Khedive  was  delighted  with  the  prospect 
of  wealth  untold,  and  he  made  contracts  with  Burton 
which,  had  they  been  carried  out,  would  have  placed 
him  and  his  wife  in  luxury  for  their  lives.  It  used  to 
be  a  joke  with  the  Burtons  at  this  time  that  they  would 
die  "Duke  and  Duchess  of  Midian."  Unfortunately 
Ismail  Khedive  abdicated  just  when  the  third  expedition 
was  about  to  come  off,  and  the  new  Khedive,  Tewfik, 
did  not  consider  himself  bound  by  any  act  of  his  father. 
The  English  Government  would  not  stir  in  the  matter, 
and  so  Burton  not  only  lost  his  chance  of  realizing  a 
large  fortune,  but  also  the  money  which  he  and  his  wife 
had  got  together  for  paying  expenses  in  connexion  with 
the  expedition,  and  which  they  thought  would  surely 
have  been  refunded.  The  only  gain  was  that  Burton 
wrote  some  interesting  books  on  the  Land  of  Midian, 
its  history,  and  its  inhabitants.  Until  the  day  of  her 
death  Lady  Burton  never  ceased  to  believe  in  the  vast 
wealth  which  was  lying  waste  in  the  Mines  of  Midian, 
and  used  to  wax  quite  enthusiastic  about  it. 

Isabel  was  anxious  to  accompany  her  husband  on  his 
first  expedition  to  Midian  ;  but  as  there  was  not  enough 


612       ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

money  for  both  of  them,  she  had  to  make  the  usual 
sacrifice  and  stay  at  home.  During  her  husband's 
absence  she  spent  most  of  her  time  at  Opgina  and  up  in 
the  mountains,  as  she  was  busily  engaged  in  correcting 
the  proofs  of  one  of  his  books. 

When  Burton  started  on  his  second  expedition  to 
Midian,  it  was  arranged  between  him  and  his  wife  that, 
as  Ismail  Khedive  was  in  such  a  very  good  humour, 
Isabel  should  make  her  way  out  to  Cairo,  and  induce 
the  Khedive  to  send  her  after  her  husband  to  Midian. 
She  was  eager  and  impatient  to  start,  and  as  soon  as  she 
could  possibly  complete  her  arrangements  she  went  on 
board  an  Austrian  Lloyd's  and  made  the  voyage  from 
Trieste  to  Alexandria.  When  she  arrived  at  the  latter 
place,  she  found  a  letter  from  her  husband  saying,  "  You 
are  not  to  attempt  to  join  me  unless  you  can  do  so  in 
proper  order."  This  rather  upset  her  plans,  as  she  did 
not  know  what  "  proper  order  "  meant.  She  therefore 
went  on  at  once  to  Cairo,  made  her  representations  in 
the  proper  quarter,  and  then  returned  to  Suez.  After 
remaining  there  some  time  in  a  state  of  great  impatience, 
she  was  informed  that  a  ship  was  going  to  be  sent  out, 
and  that  she  was  to  have  the  offer  of  going  in  her, 
though  it  was  intimated  to  her  privately  that  the 
Khedive  and  the  Governor,  Said  Bey,  very  much  hoped 
that  she  would  refuse.  She  had  no  intention  of  refusing, 
and  the  next  morning  she  went  down  to  the  ship,  which 
was  an  Egyptian  man-of-war,  the  Senaar.  It  was  to 
anchor  off  the  coast  until  the  expedition  returned  from 
the  desert,  and  then  bring  them  back.  The  captain, 
who  was  astonished  at  her  turning  up,  received  her 


Trieste  Hgain  613 

with  honour.  All  hands  were  piped  on  deck,  and  a 
guard  and  everything  provided  for  her.  Notwith- 
standing their  courtesy,  Isabel's  woman's  instinct  told 
her  that  she  was  a  most  unwelcome  guest — far  more 
unwelcome  than  she  had  anticipated.  She  saw  at  once 
that  the  situation  was  impossible,  and  prepared  to  beat 
a  graceful  retreat.  So,  after  looking  round  the  quarters 
prepared  for  her,  she  thanked  the  captain  and  officers 
exceedingly  for  their  courtesy,  and  explained,  to  their 
evident  relief,  that  she  would  not  trouble  them  after  all. 
She  returned  to  the  town,  took  some  small  rooms  at  the 
Suez  Hotel,  and  applied  herself  to  literary  work.  The 
reason  she  gave  as  an  excuse  for  her  change  of  mind 
was  that  her  expedition  would  be  too  dangerous,  as  she 
would  have  to  cross  the  Red  Sea  in  an  open  sambuk 
with  head-winds  blowing,  and  then  to  find  her  way 
alone  across  the  desert  upon  a  camel  to  Midian.  The 
danger,  however,  would  hardly  have  weighed  with  her, 
for  she  'was  always  careless  of  her  own  safety.  The  real 
reason  was  that  she  was  afraid  of  injuring  her  husband's 
prospects  with  the  Khedive. 

She  was  at  Suez  some  time.  At  last,  after  many 
weeks,  the  Governor  sent  her  a  slip  of  paper  saying, 
"  The  Senaar  is  in  sight."  It  was  the  ship  by  which 
Burton  returned.  She  went  on  board  to  welcome  him, 
and  found  him  looking  very  ill  and  tired.  The  Khedive 
sent  a  special  train  to  meet  him  on  his  return  from 
Midian,  and  the  Burtons  went  at  once  to  Cairo,  where 
they  were  received  with  great  eclat. 

From  Cairo  the  Burtons  went  back  to  Trieste,  or 
rather  to  Opcjna,  for  a  brief  rest,  and  then  proceeded 


6 14      Ube  Romance  of  Isabel  Xa&i?  JBnrton 

to  London.  From  London  they  went  to  Dublin,  where 
they  joined  the  annual  meeting  of  the  British  Associa- 
tion. Burton  delivered  several  lectures,  and  Isabel  was 
busy  writing  her  A.  E.  I.  {Arabia^  Egypt,  and  India]. 
From  Dublin  they  returned  to  London,  which  they 
made  their  headquarters  for  some  time,  breaking  their 
stay  in  town  by  many  country  visits.  The  most 
memorable  of  these  was  a  visit  to  Lord  and  Lady 
Salisbury  at  Hatfield,  where  they  again  met  Lord 
Beaconsfield,  who,  strange  to  say,  though  he  had  much 
in  common  with  the  Burtons — notably  a  love  of  the 
East  and  mysticism,  and  had  a  liking  for  them,  and  for 
Isabel  especially,  with  whom  he  was  wont  to  discuss  her 
favourite  Tancred^  his  book — -never  did  anything  for 
them,  though  he  must  have  known  better  than  most 
men  how  Burton  was  thrown  away  at  a  place  like 
Trieste.  Perhaps  Burton's  strong  anti-Semitic  views 
had  something  to  do  with  this  neglect. 

It  was  during  this  stay  in  London  that  the  Burtons 
attended  a  meeting  on  spiritualism,  at  which  Burton 
read  a  paper.  On  the  subject  of  Lady  Burton's  atti- 
tude towards  spiritualism  we  shall  have  something  to 
say  later  ;  but  it  is  better  to  interpolate  here  a  speech 
which  she  made  at  this  meeting,  as  it  explains  her 
views  in  her  own  words  : 

"  It  appears  to  me  that  spiritualism,  as  practised  in 
England,  is  ;>uite  a  different  matter  to  that  practised 
in  the  East,  as  spoken  of  by  Captain  Burton.  Easterns 
are  organized  for  such  manifestations,  especially  the 
Arabs.  It  causes  them  no  surprise  ;  they  take  it  as  a 
natural  fhing,  as  a  matter  of  course  ;  in  short,  it  is  no 


TTrtcatc  H0afn  615 

religion  to  them,  Easterns  of  this  organization  exhale 
the  force  ;  it  seems  to  be  an  atmosphere  surrounding 
the  individual ;  and  I  have  frequently  in  common  con- 
versation had  so  strong  a  perception  of  it  as  to  withdraw 
to  a  distance  on  any  pretext,  allowing  a  current  of  air 
to  pass  from  door  or  window  between  them  and  myself. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  some  strange  force  or  power  is 
at  work,  trying  to  thrust  itself  up  in  the  world,  and 
is  well  worthy  of  attention.  When  I  say  '  new,'  I  mean 
in  our  hemisphere.  I  believe  it  to  be  as  old  as  time  in 
Eastern  countries.  I  think  we  are  receiving  it  wrongly. 
When  handled  by  science,  and  when  it  shall  become 
stronger  and  clearer,  it  will  rank  very  high.  Hailed  in 
our  matter-of-fact  England  as  a  new  religion  by  people 
who  are  not  organized  for  it,  by  people  who  are  wildly, 
earnestly  seeking  for  the  truth,  when  they  have  it  at 
home — some  on  their  domestic  hearth,  and  others  next 
door  waiting  for  them — it  can  only  act  as  a  decoy  to  a 
crowd  of  sensation-seekers,  who  yearn  to  see  a  ghost 
as  they  would  go  to  a  pantomime  ;  and  this  can  only 
weaken  and  degrade  it,  and  distract  attention  from  its 
possible  true  object — science.  Used  vulgarly,  as  we 
have  all  sometimes  seen  it  used,  after  misleading  and 
crazing  a  small  portion  of  sensitive  persons,  it  must 
fall  to  the  ground."  l 

Early  in  February,  1879,  her  book  A.  E.  I.  came 
out,  and  the  publisher  was  so  pleased  with  it  that  he 
gave  a  large  party  in  honour  of  the  authoress.  There 
were  seventeen  guests,  and  there  were  seventeen  copies 

1  Speech  at  the  British  National  Association  of   Spiritualists, 
December  13,  1878. 


616       ztbe  IRomance  of  -Jsabel  Xafcs  Burton 

of  the  book:  piled  in  a  pyramid  in  the  middle  of  the 
table.  After  supper  one  was  given  to  each  guest. 
They  must  have  made  a  merry  night  of  it,  for  Isabel 
notes  that  the  gaieties  began  at  1 1  p.m.  and  did  not  end 
until  5  a.m.  Notwithstanding  this  auspicious  send-off, 
the  book  did  not  reach  anything  like  the  success  achieved 
by  her  first  work,  The  Inner  Life  cf  Syria. 

The  longest  leave  comes  to  an  end,  and  it  was  now 
time  to  return  to  Trieste.  Burton  started  ahead  as  was 
his  wont,  leaving  his  wife  to  "  pay,  pack,  and  follow." 
She  paid  and  she  packed,  and  when  she  was  leaving  the 
house  to  follow  a  beggar  woman  asked  her  for  charity. 
She  gave  her  a  shilling,  and  the  woman  said,  "  God 
bless  you  !  May  you  reach  your  home  without  an  acci- 
dent." She  must  have  had  the  Evil  Eye  ;  for  the  day 
after,  when  Isabel  arrived  in  Paris,  en  route  for  Trieste, 
she  tumbled  down  the  hotel  stairs  from  top  to  bottom, 
arriving  at  the  bottom  unconscious.  She  was  picked 
up  and  put  to  bed.  When  she  came  to  herself  she 
exclaimed,  <f  Do  not  send  the  carriage  away  ;  I  must  get 
my  work  done  and  go  on."  But  when  she  attempted 
to  rise,  she  fainted  again.  The  visible  injuries  resolved 
themselves  into  a  bad  sprain  and  twisted  ankle.  After 
the  fourth  day  she  had  herself  bound  up  and  conveyed 
to  the  train.  She  travelled  straight  through  to  Turin. 
There  she  had  to  be  carried  to  an  inn,  as  she  was  too 
ill  to  go  on.  The  next  day  she  insisted  on  being  packed 
up  again,  and  travelled  to  Mestre.  The  heat  was 
intense,  and  she  had  to  wait  four  hours  in  the  wretched 
station  at  Mestre,  during  which  she  suffered  great  pain. 
Then  she  travelled  on  by  the  post-zug,  a  slow  train, 


Trieste  Hgain  617 

and  arrived  at  Trieste  at  half-past  eight  in  the  morning, 
where  her  eyes  were  gladdened  by  seeing  her  husband 
waiting  to  receive  her  on  the  platform.  She  was  carried 
home  and  promptly  put  to  bed. 

This  illustrates  the  literal  way  in  which  she  used  tc 
obey  her  husband's  lightest  directions.  He  told  her  to 
follow  him  "  at  once,"  and  she  followed  him,  not  even 
resting  on  account  of  her  accident.  In  fact  it  is  abso- 
lutely true  to  say  that  nothing  short  of  death  would 
have  prevented  her  from  carrying  out  his  slightest 
instructions  to  the  letter. 

The  accident  which  she  met  with  in  Paris  turned  out 
to  be  more  serious  than  she  had  at  first  supposed.  It 
was  a  long  time  before  she  could  leave  her  bed.  She 
had  injured  her  back  and  her  ankle  very  badly,  and  she 
underwent  a  long  course  of  massage  and  baths;  but 
she  never  permanently  got  quite  well  again.  She  said 
herself,  "  Strength,  health,  and  nerve  I  had  hitherto 
looked  upon  as  a  sort  of  right  of  nature,  and  supposed 
that  everybody  had  them  ;  I  never  felt  grateful  for 
them  as  a  blessing,  but  I  began  to  learn  what  suffering 
was  from  this  date."  Henceforth  we  see  her  not  as 
the  woman  who  was  ready  to  share  any  dare-devil 
adventure  or  hair-breadth  escape,  and  who  revelled 
in  a  free  and  roving  life  of  travel,  but  rather  as 
the  wife,  whose  thoughts  now  turned  more  than  ever 
to  the  delights  of  home,  and  how  to  add  to  her  hus- 
band's domestic  comforts. 

Expressions  of  sympathy  and  goodwill  were  called 
forth  by  her  accident  from  friends  far  and  wide. 
Arm -tig  others,  Lady  Salisbury  wrote  : 


6i8       TTbe  IRomance  of  Ssabel  Xaop  Burton 

"  CHALET  CECIL,  PUYS,  DIEPPE,  September  22. 

"  DEAR  MRS.  BURTON, 

"  We  were  all  very  sorry  to  hear  of  your 
misfortunes,  and  I  hope  that  the  Viennese  doctors  and 
their  baths  have  now  cured  you  and  restored  you  to 
perfect  health.  It  was  indeed  most  trying  to  have  that 
accident  at  Paris  just  as  you  were  recovering  from  your 
illness  in  London.  I  suppose  you  are  now  thinking  of 
the  preparations  for  your  Egyptian  trip,  unless  the  new 
Khedive  has  stopped  it,  which  he  is  not  at  all  likely  to 
have  done,  as  its  success  would  redound  so  much  to  his 
own  advantage.  We  have  been  here  for  the  last  two 
months,  and  are  beginning  to  think  our  holiday  is  over, 
and  that  we  ought  to  go  back  to  England  again. 

"  Of  course  we  have  all  been  talking  and  thinking  of 
nothing  but  Cabul  lately.  The  Afghans  really  seem 
like  the  Constantinople  dogs,  quite  untamable.  I 
suppose  we  shall  soon  hear  of  the  English  troops 
entering  Cabul  and  all  the  horrors  of  the  punishment, 
which,  as  is  usual  in  such  cases,  is  almost  sure  to  fall 
on  the  innocent  instead  of  the  guilty. 

<c  This  country  seems  very  prosperous.  People  are 
rich  and  orderly,  and  every  one  seems  as  busy  and 
happy  as  possible  ;  the  harbour  is  full  of  ships,  and  new 
houses  are  being  built  and  new  shops  opened  ;  and, 
according  to  M.  Waddington,  who  was  here  the  other 
day,  this  is  the  same  all  over  France.  What  is  the  real 

truth  about  Count  A 's  resignation  ?     Is  it  health 

or  weariness,  or  what  is  it?  We  are  all  puzzled  at  it 
here.  I  suppose  Prince  Bismarck's  visit  will  lead  to 
some  eclair cissement. 


{Trieste  Haaln  619 

"  We  hear  occasionally  from  Lord  Beaconsfield,  who 
seems  very  well.  He  is  at  Hughenden.  We  often 
think  of  the  pleasant  days  you  spent  with  us  at  Hatfield 
when  he  was  there. 

"  With  kind  regards  to  Captain  Burton  and  yourself 
from  us  all, 

"  Believe  me  very  sincerely  yours, 

"  G.  SALISBURY." 

In  the  autumn  Isabel  went  to  Venice  on  a  brief  visit ; 
but  had  to  return  shortly,  as  Burton  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  go  once  more  to  Egypt  to  try  his  luck  about 
the  Midian  Mines.  There  was  nothing  for  her  to  do 
but  to  see  him  off  (there  was  no  money  for  two)  and 
remain  behind  to  spend  her  Christmas  alone  at  Trieste. 

Soon  after  the  new  year  Isabel  began  to  get  ill  again. 
She  had  not  really  recovered  from  her  fall  in  Paris  nine 
months  before.  The  doctors  advised  her  to  see  a  bone- 
setter.  She  wrote  and  told  her  husband,  who  was  then 
in  Egypt,  and  he  replied  by  telegram  ordering  her  to 
go  home  to  London  at  once.  She  reached  London,  and 
went  through  a  course  of  medical  treatment.  She  notes 
during  this  dreary  period  a  visit  from  Martin  Tupper, 
who  came  to  see  her  on  the  subject  of  cruelty  to 
animals.  (Burton  always  joked  with  his  wife  about 
"  Tupper  and  the  animals.")  He  presented  her  with 
a  copy  of  his  Proverbial  Philosophy,  and  also  wrote 
her  the  letter  which  is  reproduced  here  : 

"  WEST  CROYDON,  January  17,  1880. 
"  MY  DEAR  MADAM, 

"I    hope    you   will  allow   a   personal  stranger, 


620       Ube  TRomance  of  30abel  %ao£  Burton 

though  haply  on  both  sides  a  book  friend,  to  thank  you 
for  your  very  graphic  and  interesting  A.  E.  I.  travels  ; 
may  the  volume  truly  be  to  you  and  yours  an  everlasting 
possession !  But  the  special  reason  I  have  at  present 
for  troubling  you  with  my  praise  is  because  in  to-day's 
reading  of  your  eleventh  chapter  I  cannot  but  feel  how 
one  we  are  in  pity  and  hope  for  the  dear  and  inno- 
cent lower  animals  so  cruelly  treated  by  their  savage 
monarch,  man,  everywhere  during  this  evil  ason  of  the 
earth.  To  prove  my  sympathy  as  no  new  feeling,  I 
may  refer  your  kindly  curiosity  to  my  Proverbial 
Chapters  on  '  The  Future  of  Animals/  to  many  of  my 
occasional  poems,  and  to  the  enclosed,  which  I  hope  it 
may  please  you  to  accept.  You  may  like  to  know  also, 
as  a  kindred  spirit  (and  pray  don't  think  me  boastful), 
that  years  ago,  through  a  personal  communication  with 
Louis  Napoleon,  I  have  a  happy  reason  to  believe 
that  the  undersigned  was  instrumental  in  stopping  the 
horrors  of  Altorf,  besides  other  similar  efforts  for  poor 
animals  in  America  and  elsewhere.  I  believe,  with 
you,  that  they  have  a  good  future  in  prospect  (perhaps 
in  what  is  called  the  millennial  era  of  our  world),  that 
they  understand  us  and  our  language,  especially  as  to 
oaths,  and  that  those  humble  friends  will  be  met  and 
known  by  us  in  our  happier  state  to  come. 

"  But  I  must  not  weary  you  with  what  might  be 
expanded  into  a  treatise  ;  I  am  confident  we  agree  ;  and 
I  know  in  my  own  experiences  (as  doubtless  you  do 
in  yours)  that  the  poor  horses  and  dogs  we  have 
pitied  and  helped,  love  and  appreciate  and  may  here- 
after be  found  capable  of  rewarding — in  some  small  way 


^Trieste  Hoafn  621 

— those  who  are  good  to  them  in  this  our  mutual  stage 
of  trial. 

"  With  my  best  regards  then,  and  due  thanks,  allow 
me  to  subscribe  myself 

"  Your  very  sincere  servant, 

"MARTIN  F.  TUPPER." 

Isabel  was  anxious  about  her  husband,  as  things  in 
Egypt  were  in  a  very  unsettled  condition.  Ismail 
Khedive  had  now  abdicated,  and  Tewfik  had  succeeded 
him.  This,  as  we  know,  upset  all  Burton's  plans  ;  he 
got  no  farther  than  Egypt  on  his  way  to  Midian,  and 
remained  at  Alexandria  eating  out  his  heart  in  despair 
at  his  bad  luck.  One  night  on  coming  home  from 
dinner  he  was  attacked  by  a  band  of  roughs,  who  hit 
him  over  the  head  from  behind  with  a  sharp  instrument. 
It  was  supposed  to  be  foul  play  with  a  motive,  as  the 
only  thing  they  stole  was  his  divining-rod  for  gold, 
which  he  carried  about  with  him,  and  they  did  not  take 
his  money.  He  kept  the  loss  a  secret,  in  order  that  it 
should  be  no  hindrance  to  him  if  he  had  the  chance  to 
go  back  to  work  the  Mines  of  Midian.  But  that  chance 
never  came.  He  returned  to  Trieste,  and  did  not  let 
his  wife  know  of  the  assault  until  she  joined  him  there 
on  her  return  from  London. 

In  the  meantime  she  had  not  been  idle.  Despite  her 
ill-health  when  in  London  she  had  been  agitating  for 
her  husband's  promotion,  and  had  built  high  hopes  on 
the  kind  interest  of  Lord  Beaconsfield  and  Lord  Salis- 
bury. Unfortunately  for  her  Lord  Beaconsfield's  last 
Administration  collapsed  in  April  with  a  crash,  and  her 


622       Ube  "Romance  of  Ssabel  Xaog  HBurton 

hopes  were  buried  in  the  ruins.  Lord  Granville,  who 
had  recalled  Burton  from  Damascus,  succeeded  Lord 
Salisbury  at  the  Foreign  Office,  and  she  knew  that  she 
could  not  hope  for  much  from  Lord  Granville.  When 
she  saw  the  turn  the  General  Election  of  1880  had 
taken,  she  made  a  last  despairing  effort  to  induce  the 
out-going  Government  to  do  something  for  her  husband 
before  the  Ministers  gave  up  their  seals.  She  received 
the  following  kind  letter  from  Lady  Salisbury: 

"  HATFIELD  HOUSE,  HATFIELD,  HERTS,  April  18. 

"  MY  DEAR  MRS.  BURTON, 

"  I  received  your  note  here  yesterday,  and  fear  it 
is  too  late  to  do  anything,  as  the  lists  went  in  yesterday, 
and  Lord  Beaconsfield  is  with  the  Queen  to-day.  So 
we  must  bear  our  misfortunes  as  best  we  can,  and  hope 
for  better  days.  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  this  change 
is  too  violent  to  last  long.  But  who  can  say  ?  It  is 
altogether  so  astonishing.  As  regards  Captain  Burton, 
I  hope  you  will  not  lose  anything.  So  valuable  a 
public  servant  will,  I  hope,  be  sure  of  recognition 
whatever  Government  may  be  in  office. 

"  With  our  united  kind  regards  to  him  and  to  you, 
"  Yours  very  sincerely, 

"G.  SALISBURY." 

It  was  a  sad  home-coming  for  Isabel  ;  for  not  only 
were  her  hopes,  so  near  fruition,  dashed  to  the  ground, 
bat  she  found  her  husband  very  ill  from  the  effects  of 
his  accident  and  from  gout.  The  first  thing  she  did 
was  to  send  for  a  doctor,  and  take  him  off  to  Opcjna. 


Trieste  Bgatn  623 

It  is  sad  to  note  that  from  this  time  we  find  in  their 
letters  and  diaries  frequent  complaints  of  sickness  and 
suffering.  They,  who  had  rarely  known  what  illness 
meant,  now  had  it  with  them  as  an  almost  constant 
companion.  From  Op^ina  they  went  to  Oberammergau 
to  see  the  Passion  Play,  which  impressed  them  both 
very  much,  though  in  different  ways.  Isabel  wrote  a 
long  description  of  this  play,  which  has  never  been 
published.  Burton  also  wrote  an  account,  which  has 
seen  the  light.  When  they  returned  to  Trieste, 
they  had  a  good  many  visitors,  among  others  the  late 
Mr.  W.  H.  Smith  and  his  family.  He  was  always  a 
kind  friend  to  Isabel,  as  indeed  he  was  to  every  one 
he  liked.  And  that  (like  Lord  Beaconsfield,  Lord 
Salisbury,  Lord  Clarendon,  Lord  Derby,  and  many 
other  leading  statesmen)  he  had  a  high  opinion  of  her 
abilities  is,  I  think,  evident  from  the  following  letter. 
Men  do  not  write  in  this  way  to  stupid  women  : 

"3,  GROSVENOR  PLACE,  S.W.,  March  i,  1881. 

"  DEAR  MRS.  BURTON, 

"  Your  kind  letters  have  reached  us  since  our 
arrival  here.  We  were  earlier  in  our  return  than  we 
had  at  first  intended,  as  Parliament  was  called  together 
so  soon  ;  but  our  house  was  not  ready,  and  my  family 
had  to  stay  in  the  country  for  some  little  time.  It 
is  very  good  of  you  to  send  me  the  Lusiads.  I  am 
keeping  them  for  those  delightful  days  of  quiet  and 
enjoyment  which  are  to  be  had  sometimes  in  the 
country,  but  not  in  these  stormy  days  in  London. 
Are  we  to  have  peace  and  quiet  ?  Ireland  will  be 


624       Hbe  "Romance  ot  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 

sullenly  quiet  now  under  coercion,  after  having  been 
stimulated  by  oratory  almost  to  madness.  South 
Africa  is  a  very  serious  matter  indeed.  I  am  told  the 
Dutch  colonists  within  the  Cape  will  remain  loyal  ;  but 
our  reputation  as  an  invincible  race  suffers  with  all  the 
natives.  And  then  the  European  East,  nothing  at 
present  can  look  blacker,  and  all  because  of  passionate 
words  and  hatred.  I  am  afraid  too  we  are  low  in 
the  estimation  of  the  people  of  the  West,  and  likely 
to  remain  so. 

"  Your  good  Christmas  wishes  reached  us  long  after 
the  New  Year ;  but  we  had  a  very  pleasant  Christmas  at 
Malta  with  many  of  our  old  naval  friends,  and  we  spent 
our  New  Year's  Day  at  a  little  port  in  Elba.  What  a 
charming  island  it  is  !  Small,  no  doubt ;  but  not  a  bad 
prison  for  an  Emperor  if  he  had  books  and  papers  and 
some  powers  of  self-control.  Coming  up  to  Nice  we 
had  very  heavy  weather ;  but  the  yacht  behaved  well, 
and  it  was  certainly  pleasanter  at  sea  with  a  strong 
easterly  wind  than  on  shore. 

"  There  is  to  be  a  great  Candahar  debate  in  the 
Lords  to-night.  Lord  Lytton  speaks  remarkably  well 
— as  an  old  debater  would — and  great  interest  is  felt  in 
the  event.  All  the  same  Candahar  will  be  given  up  ; 
and  some  time  hence,  if  we  have  soldiers  left,  we  shall 
probably  have  to  fight  our  way  back  again  to  it. 

"  Pray  give  our  united  kind  regards  to  Captain 
Burton.  I  shall  be  so  glad  to  hear  any  news  if  any- 
thing transpires  at  Trieste. 

"  Yours  very  sincerely, 

"W.  H.  SMITH." 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

THE  SHADOWS  LENGTHEN 
(1881—1885) 

O  tired  heart  I 

God  knows, 
Not  you  nor  I. 

THE  next  four  or  five  years  were  comparatively 
uneventful.  There  was  little  hope  of  promotion 
from  the  new  Government,  so  the  Burtons  resigned 
themselves  to  Trieste  with  what  grace  they  might ;  and 
though  they  were  constantly  agitating  for  promotion 
and  change,  neither  the  promotion  nor  the  change  came. 
Burton  hated  Trieste  ;  he  chafed  at  the  restricted  field 
for  his  energies  which  it  afforded  him  ;  and  had  it  not 
been  for  frequent  expeditions  of  a  more  or  less  hazardous 
nature,  and  his  literary  labours,  life  at  the  Austrian 
seaport  would  have  been  intolerable  to  him.  With 
Isabel  it  was  different.  As  the  years  went  on  she  grew 
to  love  the  place  and  the  people,  and  to  form  many  ties 
and  interests  which  it  would  have  been  hard  for  her 
to  break.  Notwithstanding  this  she  warmly  seconded 
her  husband's  efforts  to  obtain  from  the  Foreign  Office 

6*5  40 


626       abe  TComance  of  Isabel  Xaop  3Burton 

some  other  post,  and  she  was  never  weary  of  bringing 
his  claims  before  the  notice  of  the  Government,  the 
public,  and  any  influential  friends  who  might  be  likely 
to  help.  Indeed  the  record  of  her  diary  during 
these  years  is  one  of  continuous  struggle  on  her 
husband's  behalf,  which  is  varied  only  by  anxiety  for 
his  health. 

"  I  am  like  a  swimmer  battling  against  strong 
waves,"  she  writes  to  a  friend  about  this  time,  "  and  I 
think  my  life  will  always  be  thus.  Were  I  struggling 
only  for  myself,  I  should  long  before  have  tired  ;  but 
since  it  is  for  my  dear  one's  sake  I  shall  fight  on  so 
long  as  life  lasts.  Every  now  and  then  one  seems 
to  reach  the  crest  of  the  wave,  and  that  gives  one 
courage  ;  but  how  long  a  time  it  is  when  one  is  in 
the  depths !  " 

To  another  friend  she  wrote  : 

"  We  have  dropped  into  our  old  Triestine  lives.  We 
have  made  our  Op^ina  den  very  comfortable.  We 
have  taken  the  big  room  and  Dick's  old  one,  opened 
them,  and  shut  the  end  one,  which  is  too  cold,  and  put 
in  lamps,  stoves,  and  stores  and  comforts  of  all  kinds ; 
in  fact  partly  refurnished.  I  am  much  better,  and  can 
walk  a  little  now  ;  so  I  walk  up  half-way  from  Trieste 
on  Saturday,  Dick  all  the  way ;  Sunday  Mass  in  village, 
and  walk  ;  and  Monday  walk  down.  We  keep  all  the 
week's  letters  for  here  (Opcjna)  and  all  the  week's  news- 
papers to  read,  and  do  our  translations.  I  have  begun 
AriostQ)  but  am  rather  disheartened.  We  have  set  up 
a  fir  au  pistolet  in  the  rooms,  which  are  Jong  enough 
(opened)  to  give  twenty-two  paces,  and  we  have  brought 


tTbe  Sbafcows  Xenatben  627 

up  some  foils.  The  Triestines  think  us  as  mad  as  hatters 
to  come  up  here,  on  account  of  the  weather,  which  is 
f  seasonable  ' — boray  snow,  and  frozen  fingers.  I  am 
interesting  myself  in  the  two  hundred  and  twenty  badly 
behaved  Slav  children  in  the  village.  Dick's  Lusiads 
are  making  a  stir.  My  Indian  sketches  and  our  Ober- 
ammergau  have  gone  to  the  bad.  My  publisher,  as 
I  told  you,  took  to  evil  ways,  failed,  and  eventually  died 
December  10.  However,  I  hope  to  rise  like  a  phoenix 
out  of  my  ashes.  The  rest  of  our  week  is  passed  in 
fencing  three  times  a  week,  twice  a  week  Italian,  twice 
a  week  German.  Friday  I  receive  the  Trieste  world 
from  twelve  noon  to  6  p.m.,  with  accompaniments 
of  Arab  coffee,  cigarettes,  and  liqueurs.  Dick  is  always 
grinding  at  literature  as  usual ;  so  what  with  helping 
Dick  (we  are  studying  something  together),  literature, 
looking  after  the  little  menage^  and  philanthropic 
business,  Church  work,  the  animals,  and  the  poor,  I 
am  very  happy  and  busy,  and  I  think  stronger  ;  albeit 
I  have  little  rest  or  amusement^  according  to  the 
doctor's  ideas.  In  fact  I  have  a  winter  I  love,  a  quiet 
Darby  and  Joan  by  our  own  fireside,  which  I  so  seldom 
get."1 

The  principal  event  at  Trieste  in  1881  appears  to 
have  been  the  arrival  of  the  British  squadron  in  July. 
Burton  and  his  wife  were  always  of  a  most  hospitable 
nature  ;  they  would  have  spent  their  last  penny  in 
entertaining  their  friends.  The  first  thing  they  did 
on  the  arrival  of  the  squadron  was  to  invite  the  captains 
and  officers  of  every  ship  to  an  evening  fete  champetre 
1  Letter  to  Miss  Bishop  from  Op9ina,  January  17,  1881. 


628      Ube  iRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

and  ball  at  Opc/ma.  In  addition  to  this  they  sent  out 
about  eight  hundred  invitations  to  the  captains  and 
officers  of  the  Austrian  navy  and  other  men-of-war 
anchored  at  Trieste,  the  officers  of  the  Austrian 
regiments  stationed  there,  the  Governor  and  Staff,  and 
the  Austrian  authorities,  the  Consular  corps,  and  all 
their  private  friends,  to  the  number  of  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  of  the  principal  people  of  Trieste. 
They  turned  the  gardens  of  the  little  inn  at  Opcjna 
into  a  sort  of  Vauxhall  or  Rosherville  for  the  occasion. 
There  were  refreshment  tents,  and  seats,  and  benches, 
and  barrels  of  wine  and  beer,  and  elaborate  decorations 
of  flowers,  and  coloured  lamps  and  flags,  and  no  end 
of  fireworks.  When  the  eventful  evening  arrived,  and 
everything  was  in  full  swing,  the  weather,  which  had 
been  perfectly  fine  heretofore,  broke  up  with  the 
startling  suddenness  which  is  peculiar  to  the  Adriatic. 
The  heavens  opened,  and  to  the  accompaniment  of 
thunder  and  lightning  the  rain  descended  in  torrents, 
flooding  the  tents,  quenching  the  illuminations,  and 
reducing  the  whole  ground  to  a  Slough  of  Despond. 
The  guests  naturally  rushed  for  shelter  to  the  little 
inn,  which  was  much  too  small  to  accommodate  them. 
The  police  made  for  the  barrels  of  beer,  and  were  soon 
incapable  of  keeping  order,  and  a  mob  of  villagers, 
who  had  assembled  to  witness  the  festivities  from 
without,  broke  through  the  barricades,  made  a  raid  on 
the  refreshment  tent,  smashed  the  dishes,  and  carried 
off  all  the  best  things  to  eat  and  drink.  Burton 
took  it  very  philosophically  ;  but  Isabel,  overcome  with 
vexation  and  disappointment,  burst  into  tears.  The 


Sbafcows  3Lenotben  629 

sight,  however,  of  the  raiders  soon  turned  her  grief 
to  anger.  She  pulled  herself  together,  got  a  party  of 
young  braves,  sallied  forth  into  the  grounds,  and  made  a 
rush  for  the  tent.  With  her  little  band  she  rescued  all 
that  was  left  of  the  food  and  drink,  and  then  cleared 
away  the  furniture  in  the  lower  part  of  the  inn,  told  the 
band  to  play,  and  set  her  guests  dancing,  while  she 
rigged  up  an  impromptu  supper-room  in  the  garret. 
This  spirited  conduct  soon  restored  the  chaos  to  some- 
thing like  order.  The  guests — the  majority  of  whom 
were  English — unconscious  of  the  havoc  which  had 
been  wrought,  enjoyed  themselves  right  merrily,  and 
the  party  did  not  break  up  until  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning. 

The  British  squadron,  both  officers  and  men,  were 
well  received  at  Trieste,  and  became  most  popular 
during  their  stay  there.  Isabel  made  great  friends  with 
the  sailors,  and  she  rescued  one  of  them  from  what 
might  have  been  a  serious  squabble.  One  day  she  saw 
a  sailor  picking  the  apples  off"  a  tree  in  the  Austrian 
Admiral's  garden,  which  overhung  the  road.  The 
sentry  came  out,  and  a  crowd  of  people  assembled. 
Jack  Tar  looked  at  them  scornfully,  and  went  on 
munching  his  apple  until  they  laid  hands  on  him,  when 
he  gave  a  sweeping  backhander,  which  knocked  one 
or  two  of  them  over.  Everything  was  ripe  for  a  row, 
when  Isabel  stepped  in  between  the  combatants,  and 
said  to  the  sailor,  "  I  am  your  Consul's  wife,  and  they 
are  trying  to  make  you  understand  that  these  are 
the  Austrian  Admiral's  apples,  and  you  must  not  eat 
them."  The  sailor  apologized,  said  he  did  not  know 


630      Ube  IRomance  of  Ssabel  %aog  Burton 

he  had  done  any  wrong,  and  did  not  understand  what 
they  were  all  jabbering  about  ;  and  he  saluted  and 
went.  Then  Isabel  explained  to  the  sentry,  and 
generally  poured  oil  on  the  troubled  waters.  The 
sailor  told  the  story  to  his  comrades,  and  thus  she 
became  very  popular  among  them.  The  sailors  liked 
Trieste  so  much  that,  when  the  squadron  was  to 
leave,  eighteen  of  them  did  not  join  their  ship  ;  and 
when  they  were  caught  Isabel  went  and  interceded 
for  them,  and  begged  the  captain  not  to  punish  them 
severely.  He  said,  w  Oh  no,  the  darlings ;  wait  till 
I  get  them  on  board  ship  !  I  will  have  them  tucked 
up  comfortably  in  bed  with  nice  hot  grog."  Whether 
her  intercession  availed  is  not  related. 

In  August,  1 88 1,  the  Burtons  started  on  a  trip 
somewhat  farther  afield  than  was  their  wont  for  short 
expeditions.  They  went  up  to  Veldes,  a  lovely  spot, 
where  there  was  a  good  inn  and  first-rate  fishing. 
Burton  was  absent  without  leave  from  the  Foreign 
Office ;  and  though  he  had  left  the  Consulate  in  charge 
of  the  Vice-Consul,  his  conduct  was,  officially  speaking, 
irregular,  and  both  he  and  his  wife  were  afraid  of 
meeting  any  one  they  knew.  The  first  person  they 
saw  at  the  inn  was  the  Chaplain  of  the  British  Embassy 
at  Vienna,  who  might  have  reported  the  absentee 
Consul  to  his  Ambassador.  Burton  bolted  up  to  bed 
to  avoid  him  ;  but  Isabel  thought  that  the  better  plan 
would  be  to  take  the  bull  by  the  horns.  So  she  went 
to  the  Chaplain,  and  made  a  frank  confession  that  they 
were  truants.  He  burst  out  laughing,  and  said,  "  My 
dear  lady,  I  am  doing  exactly  the  same  thing  myself," 


tTbe  Sbafcows  Xenotben  631 

She  their  went  upstairs,  brought  Burton  down  again, 
and  the  three  had  a  convivial  evening  together. 

After  this  they  went  on  by  stages  to  Ischl,  where 
they  parted  company,  Burton  going  to  Vienna,  and 
Isabel  to  Marienbad  for  a  cure.  Her  stay  at  Marien- 
bad  she  notes  as  mainly  interesting  because  she  made 
the  acquaintance  of  Madame  Olga  Novikoff.  Her 
cure  over,  with  no  good  result,  she  joined  her  husband 
at  Trieste.  They  stopped  there  one  night  to  change 
baggage,  and  went  across  to  Venice,  where  there  was 
a  great  meeting  of  the  Geographical  Congress.  Burton 
was  not  asked  to  meet  his  fellow-geographers,  or  to 
take  any  part  in  the  Congress.  The  slight  was  very 
marked,  and  both  he  and  his  wife  felt  it  keenly.  It 
was  only  one  more  instance  of  the  undying  prejudice 
against  him  in  certain  quarters.  They  met  many 
friends,  including  Captain  Verney  Lovett  Cameron.  In 
November  Burton  went  with  him  to  the  west  coast 
of  Africa,  to  report  on  certain  mines  which  Burton 
had  discovered  when  Consul  at  Fernando  Po.  Isabel 
was  anxious  to  accompany  them ;  but  it  was  the 
usual  tale,  <c  My  expenses  were  not  paid,  and  we 
personally  hadn't  enough  money  for  two,  so  I  was  left 
behind." 

The  first  part  of  1882  Isabel  spent  without  her 
husband,  as  he  was  absent  on  the  Guinea  coast.  She 
fretted  very  much  at  his  long  absence,  and  made 
herself  ill  with  disappointment  because  she  was  not 
able  to  join  him.  The  following  letter  shows  inter 
alia  how  much  she  felt  the  separation1  : 

1  Letter  to  Miss  Bishop  from  Trieste,  December  5,  1881. 


632       ZTbe  "Romance  ot  Isabel  Xaog  3Burton 

"I  was  so  pleased  you  liked  the  scourging  I  gave 
the  reviewers.1  No  one  has  answered  me,  and  it  has 
well  spread.  I  don't  know  how  they  could.  All  Dick's 
friends  were  very  glad.  The  Commentary  is  out,  two 
vols.  (that  makes  four  out  and  four  to  come).  The 
'  Reviewers  Reviewed '  is  a  postscript  to  the  Commen- 
tary, and  the  Glossary  is  in  that  too.  I  wrote  the 
*  Reviewers '  at  Duino  in  June  last,  and  I  enjoyed 
doing  it  immensely.  I  put  all  the  reviews  in  a  row 
on  a  big  table,  and  lashed  myself  into  a  spiteful 
humour  one  by  one,  so  that  my  usually  suave  pen 
was  dipped  with  gall  and  caustic.  You  will  have  had 
my  last,  I  think,  from  Marienbad.  I  then  joined 
Dick  at  Vienna,  where  we  spent  a  few  days ;  and  then 
went  to  Venice  for  the  fetes^  which  were  marvellous, 
and  the  Queen  was  lovely.  Then  we  came  home,  and 
had  two  charming,  quiet,  delicious  months  together  ; 
and  to  my  joy  he  gave  up  dining  out  and  dined  at 
home  tete-a-tete  ;  but  of  course  it  was  overshadowed 
by  the  knowledge  of  the  coming  parting,  which  I  feel 
terribly  this  time,  as  I  go  on  getting  older.  We  left 
together  in  the  Cunarder  Demerara.  Her  route  was 
Trieste,  Venice,  Fiume,  Patras,  Gibraltar,  England. 
By  dropping  off  at  Fiume  I  got  ten  days  on  board 
with  him.  He  leaves  her  at  Gibraltar  about  the  yth  ; 
goes  to  Cadiz,  Lisbon,  Madeira,  and  Axim  on  the 
West  Coast.  He  has  to  change  ship  four  times,  and 
this  is  a  great  anxiety  to  me  in  this  stormy  weather. 

1  This  refers  to  Camoens :  the  Commentary,  Life,  and  Lusiads. 
Englished  by  R.  F.  Burton.  Two  vols.  Containing  a  Glossary,  and 
Reviewers  Reviewed,  by  Isabel  Burton.  1880. 


Sba&ows  XenQtben  633 

God  keep  him  safe !  Once  at  Axim,  the  mines  are 
all  round  the  coast,  and  then  I  dread  fever  for  him. 
He  wishes  to  make  a  little  trip  to  the  Kong  Moun- 
tains, and  then  I  fear  natives  and  beasts.  Perhaps 
Cameron  will  be  with  him ;  but  entre  nous  Cameron  is 
not  very  solid,  and  requires  a  leading  hand.  If  all 
goes  well-  (D.V.,  and  may  He  be  merciful),  we  are  to 
meet  in  London  in  March,  and  I  hope  we  shall  get  a 
glimpse  of  you. 

"  I  am,  as  you  may  think,  fearfully  sad.  I  have  been 
nowhere  ;  I  neither  visit,  nor  receive,  nor  go  out.  Men 
drink  when  they  are  sad,  women  fly  into  company  ; 
but  I  must  fight  the  battle  with  my  own  heart,  learn  to 
live  alone  and  work,  and  when  I  have  conquered  I  will 
allow  myself  to  see  something  of  my  friends.  I  dreaded 
my  empty  home  without  children  or  relatives  ;  but  I 
have  braved  the  worst  now.  I  am  cleaning  and  tidy- 
ing his  room,  putting  each  thing  down  in  its  own 
place  ;  but  I  won't  make  it  luxurious  this  time  ;  I  have 
learnt  by  experience." 

Isabel  passed  the  next  three  months  at  Trieste  busily 
studying,  writing,  and  carrying  out  the  numerous 
directions  contained  in  her  husband's  letters. 

Early  in  April  her  doctor  discovered  that  she  had 
the  germs  of  the  internal  complaint  of  which  she 
ultimately  died.  She  had  noticed  all  the  year  that  she 
had  been  getting  weaker  and  weaker  in  the  fencing- 
school,  until  one  day  she  turned  faint,  and  the  fencing- 
master  said  to  her,  "  Why,  what's  the  matter  with  you  ? 
Your  arms  are  getting  quite  limp  in  using  the  broad- 
sword." She  did  not  know  what  was  the  matter  with 


634       TTbe  IRomance  of  Ssabel  %at>g  Burton 

her  at  the  time;  but  soon  after  she  became  so  ill 
that  she  had  to  take  to  her  bed,  and  then  her 
doctor  discovered  the  nature  of  the  malady.  She  did 
not  go  to  the  fencing-school  any  more  after  that. 
In  the  Life  of  her  husband,  speaking  of  this  matter, 
Lady  Burton  says  that  her  internal  complaint  possibly 
resulted  from  her  fall  downstairs  in  Paris  in  1879; 
but  in  talking  the  matter  over  with  her  sister,  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald,  a  year  or  two  before  her  death,  she  re- 
called another  accident  which  seems  the  more  likely 
origin  of  her  distressing  malady.  Once  when  she 
was  riding  alone  in  the  woods  in  Brazil  she  was 
pursued  by  a  brigand.  As  she  was  unarmed,  she  fled 
as  fast  as  her  horse  would  carry  her.  The  brigand 
gave  chase,  and  in  the  course  of  an  hour's  exciting 
ride  Isabel's  horse  stumbled  and  threw  her  violently 
against  the  pommel  of  her  saddle.  Fortunately  the 
horse  recovered  its  footing,  and  she  was  able  to  get 
safely  away  from  her  pursuer  ;  but  the  bruise  was  a 
serious  one  (though  she  thought  little  of  it  at  the 
time),  and  many  years  later  she  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  this  was  the  probable  origin  of  her 
illness. 

The  third  week  in  April  she  left  Trieste  for  England 
to  meet  her  husband,  who  was  due  at  Liverpool  in 
May.  While  she  was  in  London  she  consulted  an 
eminent  surgeon  on  the  subject  of  her  illness,  which 
was  then  at  its  beginning.  He  advised  an  operation, 
which  he  said  would  be  a  trifling  matter.  There  is 
every  probability,  if  she  had  consented,  that  she  would 
have  recovered,  and  been  alive  to  this  day.  But  she 


Ube  Sbafcows  Xen^tben  635 

had  a  horror  of  the  knife  and  anaesthetics.  Nevertheless 
she  would  have  braved  them  if  it  had  not  been  for 
another  consideration,  which  weighed  with  her  most 
of  all.  She  knew  that  an  operation  of  this  kind 
would  lay  her  up  for  some  time,  and  she  would  not 
be  able  to  look  after  her  husband  on  his  return  from 
his  long  absence.  She  was  afraid  too  that  the 
knowledge  of  her  illness  might  worry  him,  so  for  his 
sake  she  refused  the  operation,  and  she  kept  the 
knowledge  of  her  malady  a  secret  from  him.  It  is 
perhaps  a  little  far-fetched  to  say  that  by  doing 
this  she  sacrificed  her  life  for  her  husband's  sake,  yet 
in  a  sense  she  may  be  said  to  have  done  so.  Her 
first  thought,  and  her  only  thought,  was  always  of 
him,  and  it  is  literally  true  to  say  that  she  would  at 
any  moment  cheerfully  have  laid  down  her  life  that 
he  might  gain. 

Isabel  went  to  Liverpool  to  meet  Burton  on  his 
return  from  the  west  coast  of  Africa.  He  came  back 
with  Captain  Lovett  Cameron.  There  was  a  great 
dinner  given  at  Liverpool  to  welcome  the  wanderers. 
The  next  day  the  Burtons  went  to  London, 
where  they  stayed  for  a  couple  of  months  through 
the  season,  met  many  interesting  people,  and  were 
entertained  largely.  On  the  last  day  of  July  they 
returned  to  Trieste. 

In  September  Isabel  went  again  to  Marienbad  for 
the  baths,  which  did  her  no  good.  While  there  she 
wrote  a  letter  to  Vanity  Fair  anent  a  certain  article 
which  spoke  of  Burton  and  his  "  much-prized  post." 
She  took  occasion  to  point  out  his  public  services,  and 


636       Ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  %at>£  JSurton 

to  show  that  the  <f  much-prized  post "  was  "  the  poor, 
hard-earned,  little  six  hundred  a  year,  well  earned  by 
forty  years'  hard  toil  in  the  public  service."  On  return- 
ing to  Trieste,  she  entertained  many  friends  who  arrived 
there  for  the  Exhibition,  and  after  that  settled  down 
to  the  usual  round  again. 

In  October  Burton  was  suddenly  ordered  by  the 
Foreign  Office  to  go  to  Ghazzeh  in  Syria  in  search 
of  Professor  Palmer,  their  old  friend  and  travelling 
companion,  who  was  lost  in  the  desert.  There  was 
then  a  chance  of  his  being  still  alive,  though  the  bodies 
of  his  companions  had  been  found.  Burton's  know- 
ledge of  the  Bedawin  and  Sinai  country  was  of 
course  specially  valuable  in  such  a  quest.  He  started 
at  once. 

After  he  had  left  Isabel  went  into  retreat  at  the 
Convent  della  Osolini  at  Gorizia.  The  following  were 
among  her  reflections  at  this  period1  : 

"  In  retreat  at  last.  I  have  so  long  felt  the  want 
of  one.  My  life  seems  to  be  like  an  express  train, 
every  day  bringing  fresh  things  which  must  be  done. 
I  am  goaded  on  by  time  and  circumstances,  and  God, 
my  first  beginning  and  last  end,  is  always  put  off, 
thrust  out  of  the  way,  to  make  place  for  the  unim- 
portant, and  gets  served  last  and  badly.  This  cannot 
continue.  What  friend  would  have  such  long-enduring 
patience  with  me  ?  None  !  Certainly  less  a  king ! 
far  less  a  husband  !  How  then  ?  Shall  God  be  kept 
waiting  until  nobody  else  wants  me?  How  ashamed 
and  miserable  T  feel !  How  my  heart  twinges  at  the 

1  From  her  devotional  book  Lamed,  pp.  28,  29. 


Ube  Sba&ows  Xengtben  637 

thought  of  my  ingratitude,  and  the  poor  return  1 
make  for  such  favours  and  graces  as  I  have  re- 
ceived !  God  has  called  me  into  retreat  once  more, 
perhaps  for  the  last  time.  He  has  created  an  un- 
expected opportunity  for  me,  since  my  husband  has 
been  sent  to  look  for  poor  Palmer's  body.  I  thought 
I  heard  Him  cry,  '  Beware !  Do  not  wait  until  I 
drive  you  by  misfortune,  but  go  voluntarily  into 
solitude,  prepare  for  Me,  and  wait  for  Me,  till  I 
come  to  abide  with  you.' 

'*  I  am  here,  my  God,  according  to  Thy  com- 
mand ;  Thou  and  I,  I  and  Thou,  face  to  face  in 
the  silence.  Oh,  speak  to  my  heart,  and  clear  out 
from  it  everything  that  is  not  of  Thee,  and  let  me 
abide  with  Thee  awhile  !  Not  only  speak,  but  make 
me  understand,  and  turn  my  body  and  spirit  and 
soul  into  feelings  and  actions,  not  words  and  thoughts 
alone. 

"  My  health  and  nerves  for  the  past  three  years  have 
rendered  me  less  practical  and  assiduous  in  religion  than 
I  was.  Then  I  used  to  essay  fine,  large,  good  works, 
travel,  write,  and  lead  a  noble  and  virile  life.  Now 
I  am  weaker,  and  feel  a  lassitude  incidental  to  my  time 
of  life,  which  I  trust  may  pass  away.  I  am  left  at  home 
to  town  life,  and  I  seem  to  have  declined  to  petty 
details,  small  works,  dreaming,  and  making  lists  and 
plans  of  noble  things  not  carried  out.  It  looks  like 
the  beginning  of  the  end. 

"  I  ask  for  two  worldly  petitions,  quite  submitted 
to  God's  will  :  (i)  That  I  may  be  cured,  and  that 
Dick  and  I  may  have  good,  strong  health  to  be  able 


638       Ube  TComance  of  Isabel  Xafcg  JSurton 

to  work  and  do  good — if  we  are  destined  to  live. 
(2)  That  if  it  be  God's  will,  and  not  bad  for  us,  we 
may  get  a  comfortable  independence,  without  work- 
ing any  more  for  our  bread,  and  independent  of  any 
master  save  God." 

Isabel  returned  to  Trieste  when  her  retreat  was 
concluded ;  and  soon  after — much  sooner  than  she 
expected — her  husband  returned  to  her. 

When  he  reached  Ghazzeh,  Burton  found  Sir  Charles 
Warren  already  in  the  field,  and  he  did  not  want  to 
be  interfered  with,  so  that  Burton  came  home  again 
and  spent  Christmas  with  his  wife  at  Trieste.  Thus 
ended  1882.  Isabel  notes:  "After  this  year  mis- 
fortunes began  to  come  upon  us  all,  and  we  have  never 
had  another  like  it." 

Early  next  year  the  Burtons  left  their  flat  in  Trieste, 
•vhere  they  had  been  for  over  ten  years.  Something 
went  wrong  with  the  drainage  for  one  thing,  and 
Burton  took  an  intense  dislike  to  it  for  another  ;  and 
whvn  he  took  a  dislike  to  a  house  nothing  would 
ever  'nduce  him  to  remain  in  it.  The  only  thing  to 
do  wa«i  to  move.  They  looked  all  over  Trieste  in 
search  of  something  suitable,  and  only  saw  one  house 
that  woulu  do  for  them,  and  that  was  a  palazzo,  which 
then  seemed  quite  beyond  their  means  ;  yet  six  months 
later  they  got  into  it.  It  was  a  large  house  in  a 
large  garden  on  a  wooded  eminence  looking  out  to 
the  sea.  It  h*d  been  built  in  the  palmy  days  of 
Trieste  by  an  Euglish  merchant  prince,  and  was  one 
of  the  best  houses  iu  the  place.  It  had  a  good  entrance, 
so  wide  that  it  would  have  been  possible  to  drive  a 


ZTbe  Sbafcows  Xengtben  639 

carnage  into  the  hall.  A  marble  staircase  led  to  the 
interior,  which  contained  some  twenty  large  rooms, 
magnificent  in  size.  The  house  was  full  of  air  and 
light,  and  the  views  were  charming.  One  looked 
over  the  Adriatic,  one  over  the  wooded  promontory, 
another  towards  the  open  country,  and  the  fourth  into 
gardens  and  orchards. 

The  early  part  of  1883  was  sad  to  Isabel  by  reason 
of  her  husband's  failing  health  and  her  own  illness. 
"In  May  she  went  alone  to  Bologna,  at  her  husband's 
request,  for  she  then  told  him  of  the  nature  of 
her  illness,  to  consult  Count  Mattei,  of  whom  they 
had  heard  much  from  their  friend  Lady  Paget, 
Ambassadress  at  Vienna.  When  she  arrived  at  Bologna, 
she  found  he  had  gone  on  to  Riola,  and  she  followed 
him  thither.  Mattel's  castle  was  perched  on  a  rock, 
and  to  it  Isabel  repaired. 

"  First,"  she  says,  "  I  had  to  consult  a  very  doubtful- 
looking  mastiff ;  then  appeared  a  tall,  robust,  well-made, 
soldierlike-looking  form  in  English  costume  of  blue 
serge,  brigand  felt  hat,  with  a  long  pipe,  who  looked 
about  fifty,  and  not  at  all  like  a  doctor.  He  received 
me  very  kindly,  and  took  me  up  flights  of  stairs, 
through  courts,  into  a  wainscoted  oak  room,  with 
fruits  and  sweets  on  the  table,  with  barred-iron  gates 
and  drawbridges  and  chains  in  different  parts  of  the 
room,  that  looked  as  if  he  could  pull  one  up  and 
put  one  down  into  a  hole.  He  talked  French  and 
Italian  ;  but  I  soon  perceived  that  he  liked  Italian 
better,  and  stuck  to  it;  and  I  also  noticed  that,  by 
his  mouth  and  eyes,  instead  of  fifty,  he  must  be 


640      trbe  "Romance  ot  Isabel  Xa&g  JSurton 

about  seventy-five.  A  sumptuous  dinner-table  was  laid 
out  in  an  adjoining  room,  with  fruit  and  flowers.  I 
told  him  I  could  not  be  content,  having  come  so  far 
to  see  him,  to  have  only  a  passing  quarter  of  an  hour. 
He  listened  to  all  my  long  complaints  about  my  health 
most  patiently,  asked  me  every  question  ;  but  he 
did  not  ask  to  examine  me,  nor  look  at  my  tongue, 
nor  feel  my  pulse,  as  other  doctors  do.  He  said  that 
I  did  not  look  like  a  person  with  the  complaint  men- 
tioned, but  as  if  circulation  and  nerves  were  out  of 
order.  He  prescribed  four  internal  and  four  external 
remedies  and  baths.  I  wrote  down  all  his  sugges- 
tions, and  rehearsed  them  that  he  might  correct  any 
mistakes."  l 

After  the  interview  with  Count  Mattei  Isabel  did 
not  remain  at  Riola,  but  with  all  her  medicines  returned 
to  Trieste.  The  remedies  were  not,  however,  of  any 
avail. 

In  June  Isabel  presided  over  a  fete  of  her  Society 
for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals,  and  made 
a  long  speech,  in  which  she  reviewed  the  work  from 
the  beginning,  and  the  difficulties  and  successes.  She 
wound  up  as  follows  : 

"  May  none  of  you  ever  know  the  fatigue,  anxiety, 
disgust,  heartaches,  nervousness,  self-abnegation,  and 
disappointments  of  this  mission,  and  the  small  good 
drawn  out  of  years  of  it  ;  for  so  it  seems  to  me.  Old 
residents,  and  people  living  up  the  country,  do  say  that 
you  would  not  know  the  town  to  be  the  same  it  was 
eleven  years  ago,  when  I  first  came.  They  tell  me 

1  Life  of  Sir  Richard  Burton,  by  Isabel  his  wife,  vol.  ii.,  p.  248. 


ZIbe  Sbafcows  Xenotben  641 

there  is  quite  a  new  stamp  or  horse,  a  new  mode  of 
working  and  treatment  and  feeling.  I,  the  workwoman, 
cannot  see  it  or  feel  it.  I  think  I  am  always  rolling  a 
stone  uphill.  I  know  that  you  all  hear  something 
of  what  I  have  to  put  up  with  to  carry  it  out — the 
opposition,  and  contentions,  treachery,  abuse,  threats, 
and  ridicule ;  and  therefore  I  all  the  more  cherish 
the  friendly  hand  such  a  large  assembly  has  gathered 
together  to  hold  out  to  me  to-day  to  give  me  fresh 
courage.  You  all  know  how  fond  I  am  of  Trieste ; 
but  it  is  the  very  hardest  place  I  ever  worked  in,  and 
eleven  years  of  it  have  pretty  nearly  broken  me  up. 
Nevertheless  I  shall  always,  please  God,  wherever  I 
am,  *  open  my  mouth  for  the  dumb,'  and  adhere  to 
my  favourite  motto :  *  Fais  ce  que  dois,  advienne  que 
pourra.' ' 

For  the  first  time  this  summer  Isabel  and  her 
husband  found  that  swimming  in  the  sea,  which  had 
been  one  of  their  favourite  recreations  at  Trieste,  no 
longer  agreed  with  them,  and  they  came  reluctantly  to 
the  conclusion  that  their  swimming  must  go  the  way 
of  the  fencing,  and  that  the  days  of  their  more  active 
physical  exercises  were  over.  For  the  first  time  also 
in  all  the  twenty-two  years  of  their  married  life  they 
began  to  shirk  the  early  rising,  and  now  no  longer 
got  up  at  3  or  4  a.m.,  but  at  the  comparatively  late 
hour  of  6  or  6.30  a.m.  In  November  Burton  had 
a  serious  attack  of  gout,  which  gave  him  agonies  of 
pain ;  and  it  was  at  last  borne  in  upon  him  that  he 
would  have  to  make  up  his  mind  henceforth  to  be 
more  or  less  of  an  invalid.  Simultaneously  Isabel  was 


642       tTbe  Romance  of  Ssabel  Xaog  JSurton 

ill  from  peritonitis.  There  seemed  to  be  a  curious 
sympathy  between  the  two,  which  extended  to  all 
things,  even  to  their  physical  health.  On  Decem- 
ber 6  Burton  put  the  following  in  his  diary  in  red 
ink :  "  'This  day  eleven  years  I  came  here.  What  a 
shame  !  " 

Early  in  1884  Isabel  came  in  for  a  small  legacy  of 
£500,  which  was  useful  to  them  at  the  time,  as  they 
were  far  from  being  well  off,  and  had  incurred  many 
expenses  consequent  on  their  change  of  house.  She 
expended  the  whole  of  it  in  additional  comforts  for  her 
husband  during  his  illness,  which  unfortunately  seemed 
to  get  more  serious  as  time  went  on.  In  February 
he  quite  lost  the  use  of  his  legs  for  eight  months, 
which  of  necessity  kept  him  much  in  the  house.  It 
was  during  this  period  that  he  began  his  great  work 
tAlf  Laylah  wa  Laylah,  or  'The  Arabian  Nights. 
When  I  say  he  began  it,  that  is  not  strictly  speaking 
correct,  for  he  had  been  gathering  material  for  years. 
He  merely  took  in  hand  the  matter  which  he  had 
already  collected  thirty  years  before.  He  worked  at 
it  con  amore,  and  it  was  very  soon  necessary  to  call  in 
an  amanuensis  to  copy  his  manuscript. 

This  year  was  uneventful.  They  were  absent  from 
Trieste  a  good  deal  on  "  cures  "  and  short  excursions. 
Burton's  health  gave  him  a  great  deal  of  trouble  ;  but 
whenever  he  was  well  enough,  or  could  find  time  from 
his  official  duties,  he  devoted  himself  to  his  translation 
of  'The  Arabian  Nights.  Isabel  also  worked  hard  in 
connexion  with  it  in  another  way.  She  had  undertaken 
the  financial  part  of  the  business,  and  sent  out  no  less 


Sbafcows  Xengtben  643 

than  thirty- four  thousand  circulars  to  people  with  a 
view  to  their  buying  copies  of  the  book  as  it  came 
out. 

In  January  and  February,  1885,  Burton  was  so  ill 
that  his  wife  implored  him  to  throw  up  the  Consular 
Service,  and  live  in  a  place  which  suited  him,  away 
from  Trieste.  Of  course  that  meant  that  they  would 
have  to  live  in  a  very  small  way ;  for  if  they  gave  up 
their  appointment  at  that  time  and  forfeited  the  salary, 
they  would  have  been  very  poor.  Still,  so  impressed 
was  Isabel  that  the  winter  in  Trieste  did  not  agree 
with  her  husband,  that  she  said,  "You  must  never 
winter  here  again  "  ;  but  he  said,  "  I  quite  agree  with 
you  there — we  will  never  winter  here  again  ;  but  I 
won't  throw  up  the  Service  until  I  either  get  Morocco 
or  they  let  me  retire  on  full  pension."  She  then 
said,  "  When  we  go  home  again,  that  is  what  we 
will  try  for,  that  you  may  retire  on  full  pension, 
which  will  be  only  six  years  before  your  time." 
Henceforth  she  tried  for  only  two  things  :  one,  that 
he  might  be  promoted  to  Morocco,  because  it  was 
his  pet  ambition  to  be  Consul  there  before  he  died  ; 
the  other,  failing  Morocco,  he  should  be  allowed 
to  retire  on  full  pension  on  account  of  his  health. 
Notwithstanding  that  she  moved  heaven  and  earth 
to  obtain  this  latter  request,  it  was  never  granted. 

In  the  meantime  they  were  busy  writing  together 
the  index  to  'The  Arabian  Nights.  On  Thursday, 
February  12,  she  said  to  him,  "  Now  mind,  to-morrow 
is  Friday  the  i3th.  It  is  our  unlucky  day,  and  we 
have  got  to  be  very  careful." 


644      Ube  "Romance  of  30abel  Xaos  JSurton 

When  the  morning  dawned,  they  heard  of  the  death 
of  one  of  their  greatest  friends,  General  Gordon,  which 
had  taken  place  on  January  26  at  Kartoum  ;  but  the 
news  had  been  kept  from  them.  At  this  sad  event 
Isabel  writes,  {<  We  both  collapsed  together,  were  ill  all 
day,  and  profoundly  melancholy." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

GORDON  AND   THE  BURTONS 

Oh !   bring  us  back  once  more 

The  vanished  days  of  yore, 
When  the  world  with  faith  was  filled; 

Bring  back  the  fervid  zeal, 

The  hearts  of  fire  and  steel, 
The  hands  that  believe  and  build. 

r  I  ""HE  mention  of  Gordon's  death  suggests  that  this 
JL  would  be  the  fittest  place  to  bring  to  notice  the 
relations  which  existed  between  him  and  the  Burtons. 
Their  acquaintance,  which  ripened  into  a  strong  liking 
and  friendship,  may  be  said  to  have  existed  over  a 
period  of  ten  years  (from  1875  to  1885),  from  the 
time  when  Gordon  wrote  to  ask  Burton  for  information 
concerning  Victoria  Nyanza  and  the  regions  round 
about,  to  the  day  when  he  went  to  his  death  at 
Kartoum.  Long  before  they  met  in  the  flesh,  Gordon 
and  Burton  knew  each  other  in  the  spirit,  and  Gordon 
thought  he  saw  in  Burton  a  man  after  his  own  heart. 
In  many  respects  he  was  right  The  two  men  were 
curiously  alike  in  their  independence  of  thought  and 
action,  in  their  chivalrous  devotion  to  honour  and  duty, 
in  their  absolute  contempt  for  the  world's  opinion,  in 

645 


646       TTbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  XaoB  JSurton 

their  love  of  adventure,  in  their  indifference  to  danger, 
in  their  curious  mysticism  and  fatalism,  and  in  the 
neglect  which  each  suffered  from  the  Government  until 
it  was  too  late.  They  were  both  born  leaders  of  men, 
and  for  that  reason  indifferent  followers,  incapable  of 
running  quietly  in  the  official  harness.  Least  of  all 
could  they  have  worked  together,  for  they  were  too  like 
one  another  in  some  things,  and  too  unlike  in  others. 
Burton  saw  this  from  the  first,  and  later  Gordon  came 
to  see  that  his  view  was  the  right  one.  But  it  never 
prevented  either  of  them  from  appreciating  the  great 
qualities  in  the  other. 

The  correspondence  between  Gordon  and  the  Burtons 
was  voluminous.  Lady  Burton  kept  all  Gordon's 
letters,  intending  to  publish  them  some  day.  I  am 
only  carrying  out  her  wishes  in  publishing  them  here. 
Both  Gordon  and  Burton  were  in  the  habit  of  writing 
quite  freely  on  men  and  things,  and  therefore  it  has 
been  found  necessary  to  suppress  some  of  the  letters  ; 
but  those  given  will,  I  think,  be  found  of  general 
interest. 

The  first  letter  Gordon  wrote  to  Burton  was  about 
fifteen  months  after  he  had  taken  up  the  Governorship 
of  the  Equatorial  Provinces.  It  was  as  follows  : 

"  BEDDEN,  SOUTH  OF  GONDOKORO  *  23  MILES, 
"July  17,  1875. 

"My  DEAR  CAPTAIN  BURTON, 

"  Though  I  have  not  had  the  honour  of  meeting 
you,  I  hope  you  will  not  object  to  give  me  certain 

1  Gondokoro  was  the  seat  of  Government  of  the  Province  of  the 
Equator. 


<Boroon  ant>  tbe  Burtons  647 

information  which  I  imagine  you  are  most  capable  of 
doing.  I  will  first  relate  to  you  my  proposed  move- 
ments. At  this  moment  I  am  just  starting  from  this 
station  for  the  South.  You  are  aware  that  hitherto  the 
Nile  from  about  eighteen  miles  south  of  Gondokoro 
to  the  junction  of  it  with  the  Unyame  Hor  (Apuddo, 
Hiameye,  Dufte,  or  Mahade,  as  different  people  call  it) 
has  been  considered  impassable  and  a  torrential  stream. 
Being  very  much  bothered  with  the  difficulties  of  the 
land  route  for  this  distance,  I  thought  I  would  establish 
ports  along  the  river,  hoping  to  find  it  in  steps  with 
portions  which  might  be  navigable,  instead  of  what 
it  was  supposed  to  be — viz.  a  continuous  rapid. 
Happily  I  came  on  the  river  at  the  commencement 
of  its  rise  at  end  of  March,  and  found  it  navigable 
as  far  as  Kerri,  which  is  forty-six  miles  south  of 
Gondokoro,  and  about  forty  miles  north  of  the  point 
where  the  Nile  is  navigable  to  the  lake.  As  far  south 
as  one  can  see  from  Kerri  the  river  looks  good,  for 
the  highlands  do  not  approach  one  another.  I  have 
already  a  station  at  Mahade,  and  one  at  Kerri,  and 
there  remains  for  me  to  make  another  midway  between 
Kerri  and  Mahade,  to  complete  my  communication  with 
the  lake.  I  go  very  slowly,  and  make  my  stations 
as  I  proceed.  I  cannot  reconnoitre  between  Kerri  and 
Mahade,  but  am  obliged,  when  once  I  move,  to  move  for 
a  permanent  object.  If  I  reconnoitred,  it  would  cost 
me  as  much  time  as  if  I  was  going  to  establish  myself 
permanently,  and  also  would  alarm  the  natives,  who 
hitherto  have  been  quiet  enough.  I  do  not  think  that 
there  are  any  properly  so-called  cataracts  between  Kerri 


648       ttbe  TRomance  of  Isabel  OLa&g  JSurton 

and  the  lake.  There  may  be  bad  rapids;  but  as  the  bed 
of  the  river  is  so  narrow  there  will  be  enough  water  for 
my  boats,  and  if  the  banks  are  not  precipices  I  count 
on  being  able  to  haul  my  boats  through.  We  have 
hauled  them  through  a  gap  sixty-five  yards  wide  at 
Kerri,  where  the  Nile  has  a  tremendous  current.  Now 
Kerri  is  below  the  junction  of  the  Nile  and  the  Asua; 
while  Mahade,  where  all  agree  the  other  rapids  are,  is 
above  the  junction  ;  so  that  I  may  hope  at  Mahade  to 
have  a  less  violent  current  to  contend  with,  and  to  have 
the  Asua  waters  in  some  degree  cushioning  up  that 
current.  I  have  little  doubt  of  being  able  to  take 
my  steamer  (the  one  constructed  by  Baker's 1  engineers 
at  Gondokoro)  up  to  Kerri,  for  I  have  already  there 
boats  of  as  great  a  draught  or  water.  From  Mahade 
it  is  some  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles  to  Magungo. 
About  seventy  miles  south  of  Mahade  a  split  takes 
place  in  the  river :  one  branch  flows  from  east, 
another  from  west.  I  imagine  that  to  north  of  the 
lake  a  large  accumulation  of  aquatic  vegetation  has 
taken  place,  and  eventually  has  formed  this  isle. 
Through  this  vegetation  the  Victoria  Nile  has  cut  a 
passage  to  the  east,  and  the  lake  waters  have  done  this 
to  the  west.  Baker  passed  through  a  narrow  passage 
from  the  lake  to  the  Victoria  Nile  channel.  From 
Magungo  the  Victoria  Nile  is  said  to  be  a  torrent  to 
within  eighteen  miles  of  Karuma  Falls.  Perhaps  it  is 
also  in  steps.  Karuma  Falls  may  be  passable  or  not. 
And  then  we  have  Isamba  and  Ripon  Falls.  If  they 

1  Sir  Samuel  Baker,  whom  Gordon  succeeded  as  Governor  of  the 
tribes  which  inhabit  the  Nile  Basin  in  1874. 


6or&on  anfc  tbe  ^Buttons  649 

are  downright  cataracts,  nothing  remains  but  to  make 
stations  at  them,  and  to  have  an  upper  and  a  lower 
flotilla.  If  they  are  rapids,  there  must  be  depth  of 
water  in  such  a  river  in  the  rainy  season  to  allow  of  the 
passage  of  boats,  if  you  have  power  to  stem  the  current. 

"  I  now  come  to  Victoria  Nyanza ;  and  about  this  I 
want  to  ask  you  some  questions — viz.  What  is  the  north 
frontier  of  Zanzibar  ?  And  have  we  any  British  interests 
which  would  be  interfered  with  by  a  debouch  of  the 
Egyptians  on  the  sea  ?  Another  query  is,  If  the  coast 
north  of  Equator  does  not  belong  to  Zanzibar,  in  whose 
hands  is  it  ?  Are  the  Arabs  there  refugees  from  the 
Wahhabees  of  Arabia  ? — for  if  so,  they  would  be  deadly 
hostile  to  Egypt.  To  what  limit  inland  are  the  people 
acquainted  with  partial  civilization,  or  in  trade  with  the 
coast,  and  accordingly  supplied  with  firearms  ?  Could 
I  count  on  virgin  native  tribes  from  Lake  Baringo  or 
Ngo  to  Mount  Kenia — tribes  not  in  close  communica- 
tion with  the  coast  Arabs? 

"  My  idea  is,  that  till  the  core  of  Africa  is  pierced 
from  the  coast  but  little  progress  will  take  place  among 
the  hordes  of  natives  in  the  interior.  Personally  I  would 
wish  a  route  to  sea,  for  the  present  route  is  more  or  less 
hampered  by  other  governors  of  provinces.  By  the  sea 
route  I  should  be  free.  The  idea  is  entirely  my  own  ; 
and  I  would  ask  you  not  to  mention  it,  as  (though  you 
are  a  consul  and  I  have  also  been  one)  you  must  know 
that  nothing  would  delight  the  Zanzibar  Consul  better 
than  to  have  the  thwarting  of  such  a  scheme,  inasmuch 
as  it  would  bring  him  into  notice  and  give  him  oppor- 
tunity to  write  to  F,  O,  I  do  not  myself  wish  to  go 


650      Ube  "Romance  of  Jsabel  Xaog  Burton 

farther  east  than  Lake  Baringo  or  Ngo.  But  whether 
Egypt  is  allowed  a  port  or  not  on  the  coast,  at  any 
rate  I  may  be  allowed  to  pass  my  caravans  through  to 
Zanzibar  and  to  get  supplies  thence. 

"  When  I  contrast  the  comparative  comfort  of  my 
work  with  the  miseries  you  and  other  travellers  have 
gone  through,  I  have  reason  to  be  thankful.  Dr. 
Kraft  talks  of  the  River  Dana — debouching  into  sea 
under  the  name  of  river — as  navigable  from  Mount 
Kenia.  If  so — and  rivers  are  considered  highways  and 
free  to  all  flags — I  would  far  sooner  have  my  frontier 
at  Mount  Kenia  than  descend  to  the  lower  lands. 

"  Believe  me,  with  many  excuses  for  troubling  you, 
"  Yours  sincerely, 

"C.  G.  GORDON." 

Burton,  who  possessed  a  great  and  personal  knowledge 
of  the  Nile  Basin  and  the  tribes  inhabiting  it,  cordially 
answered  Gordon's  letter,  giving  him  full  information 
and  many  valuable  hints.  Henceforward  the  two  men 
frequently  corresponded,  and  got  to  know  one  another 
very  well  on  paper.  The  next  letter  of  Gordon's 
which  I  am  permitted  to  give  was  written  the  follow- 
ing year : 

"LARDO,  October  12,  1876. 

"Mr  DEAR  CAPTAIN  BURTON, 

"Thank  you  for  your  letter  July  13,  which 
I  received  proceeding  from  the  Lake  Albert  to  this 
place.  I  came  down  from  Magungo  here  in  eight 
days,  and  could  have  done  it  in  six  days.  This  is  a 


Oorfcon  anfc  tbe  JSurtons  651 

great  comfort  to  me,  and  I  am  proud  of  my  road  and 
of  the  herds  of  cattle  the  natives  pasture  along  either 
side  of  it  without  fear.  I  have  been  up  the  Victoria 
Nile  from  Mrooli  to  near  Urmdogani,  and  seen  Long's 
lake — viz.  Lake  Mesanga.  It  is  a  vast  lake,  but  of 
still  shallow  water.  The  river  seems  to  lose  itself 
entirely  in  it.  A  narrow  passage,  scarcely  nine  feet 
wide,  joins  the  north  end  of  the  Victoria  Nile  near 
Mrooli ;  and  judging  from  the  Murchison  Falls — 
which  are  rapids,  not  falls — I  should  say  Victoria  Lake 
and  Victoria  Nile  contribute  very  little  to  the  true  Nile. 
The  branch  Piaggia  saw  is  very  doubtful.  I  could 
not  find  it,  and  the  boatmen  seem  very  hazy  as  to  its 
existence.  As  for  Gessi's1  branch  north  of  Albert 
Lake,  I  could  not  find  that  either.  And,  entre  nous,  I 
believe  in  neither  of  the  two  branches.  The  R.  G.  S. 
will  have  my  maps  of  the  whole  Nile  from  Berber  to 
Urmdogani  on  a  large  scale,  and  they  will  show  the 
nature  of  the  river.  I  go  home  on  leave  (D.V.)  in 
January  for  six  months,  and  then  come  out  again  to 
finish  off.  You  would  learn  my  address  from  Cox  & 
Co.,  Craig's  Court.  I  would  be  glad  to  meet  you  ;  for 
I  believe  you  are  not  one  of  those  men  who  bother 
people,  and  who  pump  you  in  order  that  they,  by 
writing,  might  keep  themselves  before  the  world.  If 
it  was  not  such  a  deadly  climate,  you  would  find  much 
to  interest  you  in  these  parts  ;  but  it  is  very  deadly. 
An  Arab  at  Mtesa's 2  knows  you  very  well.  He  gave 
the  Doctor  a  letter  for  you.  His  name  is  either 

1  Romalus  Gessi  (Gessi  Pasha),  a  member  of  Gordon's  staff. 
1  Mtesa,  King  of  Uganda. 


6sa      ttbe  IRomance  ot  Isabel  Xafcg  ^Burton 

Ahmed  bin  Hishim  or  Abdullah  bin  Habib.  I  have 
had,  entre  nous,  a  deal  of  trouble,  not  yet  over,  with 
Mtesa,  who,  as  they  will  find  out,  is  a  regular  native. 
I  cannot  write  this,  but  will  tell  you.  Stanley  knows 
it,  I  expect,  by  this  time.  The  Mission  will  stay  there 
(Mtesa's)  about  three  months :  that  will  settle  them,  I 
think. 

"  Believe  me,  with  kind  regards, 

"  Yours  sincerely, 

"C.  G.  GORDON." 

Shortly  after  this,  in  December,  Gordon  determined 
to  resign  his  official  position  and  return  to  England, 
as  he  had  great  difficulty  in  adjusting  matters,  so  far 
as  finances  were  concerned,  with  the  Governor-General 
at  Kartoum.  He  went  to  Cairo,  and  announced  his 
intention  of  going  home  to  the  Khedive  (Ismail),  who, 
however,  induced  him  to  promise  that  he  would  return 
to  Egypt.  Burton  wrote  to  ask  Gordon  to  come,  on 
his  journey  back  to  England,  round  by  way  of  Trieste, 
and  talk  over  matters.  Gordon  replied  as  follows  : 

"ON  BOARD  ' SUMATRA,'  December  17,  1876. 

"Mr  DEAR  CAPTAIN  BURTON, 

"  I  received  your  kind  note  as  I  was  leaving  for 
Brindisi.  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  manage  the  Trieste 
route.  I  am  not  sure  what  will  be  my  fate.  Per- 
sonally, the  whole  of  the  future  exploration,  or  rather 
opening,  of  the  Victoria  Lake  to  Egypt  has  not  a 
promising  future  to  me,  and  I  do  not  a  bit  like  the 
idea  of  returning.  I  have  been  humbugged  into  saying 


Gordon  an&  tbe  Buttons  653 

I  would  do  so,  and  I  suppose  must  keep  my  word.  I, 
however,  have  an  instinctive  feeling  that  something 
may  turn  up  ere  I  go  back,  and  so  feel  pretty  comfort- 
able about  it.  I  gave  Gessi  a  letter  to  you.  He  is  a 
zealous  and  energetic,  sharp  fellow.  I  shall  not,  how- 
ever, take  him  back  with  me,  even  if  I  go.  I  do  not 
like  having  a  man  with  a  family  hanging  on  one. 

"  Believe  me, 

"  Yours  sincerely, 

"C.  G.  GORDON." 

Burton  then  wrote  to  Gordon,  urging  him  to  write 
a  book  on  his  experiences  in  Equatorial  Africa,  and 
asking  what  his  intentions  were  about  returning.  In 
his  reply  Gordon  first  broaches  the  idea  which  he  after- 
wards returned  to  again  and  again — namely,  that  Burton 
should  take  up  work  in  Egypt. 

M  7,  CECIL  STREET,  STRAND,  January  12,  1877. 

"Mv  DEAR  CAPTAIN  BURTON, 

"  Thank  you  for  your  kind  note.  Gessi  wrote 
to  me  from  Trieste,  dating  his  letter  only  *  Trieste/ 
and  I  replied  to  that  address,  so  I  suppose  the  post- 
office  know  him.  Yes ;  I  am  back,  but  I  have  escaped 
persecution.  Wilson1  I  have  heard  nothing  of.  I 
have  not  the  least  intention  of  publishing  anything.2 
My  life  and  work  there  was  a  very  humdrum  one  ; 

1  Mr.  Rivers  Wilson. 

f  Nevertheless  he  permitted  Dr.  Birkbeck  Hill  to  edit  and  publish 
his  letters  in  1881,  which  give  a  good  account  of  his  work  in  Central 
Africa. 


654       ftbe  TComance  of  Isabel  Zaog  JSurton 

and,  unlike  you,  I  have  no  store  of  knowledge  to  draw 
on.  (I  may  tell  you  your  book  was  thought  by  us  all 
out  in  Africa  as  by  far  the  best  ever  written.)  I  am 
not  going  back  to  H.H.  It  is  a  great  pang  to  me,  I 
assure  you  ;  but  it  is  hopeless,  hopeless  work.  Why 
do  not  you  take  up  the  work  ?  You  may  not  be  so 
sensitive  as  I  am. 

"  Good-bye,  and  believe  me, 
"  Yours  very  truly, 

"C.  G.  GORDON." 

Gordon  duly  returned  to  Egypt,  for  the  Khedive  held 
him  td  his  promised  word.  He  was  made  Governor- 
General  of  the  Soudan,  Darfur,  and  the  Equatorial 
Provinces,  which  were  now  reunited  into  one  great 
whole.  It  was  necessary  for  good  administration  that 
Gordon  should  have  three  governors  under  him,  one 
for  the  Soudan  proper,  one  for  the  Equatorial  Pro- 
vinces, and  one  for  Darfur.  As  soon  as  Gordon  had 
arranged  matters  with  the  Khedive  and  entered  upon 
his  Governor-Generalship  he  wrote  to  Burton,  offering 
him  the  post  of  Governor-General  of  Darfur. 

"  OOMCHANGA,    DARFUR,  JutU  21,    1877. 

"Mv  DEAR  CAPTAIN  BURTON, 

"  You  now,  I  see,  have  £600  a  year,  a  good 
climate,  quiet  life,  good  food,  etc.,  and  are  engaged 
in  literary  inquiries,  etc.,  etc.  I  have  no  doubt  that 
you  are  very  comfortable,  but  I  cannot  think  entirely 
satisfied  with  your  present  small  sphere.  I  have  there- 
fore written  to  the  Khedive  to  ask  him  to  give  you 


(Borfcon  anO  tbe  JSurtons  655 

Darfur  as  Governor-General,  with  £1,600  a  year,  and 
a  couple  of  secretaries  at  £300  a  year  each.  Darfur 
is  lyenfer.  The  country  is  a  vast  sand  plain,  with  but 
little  water  ;  the  heat  is  very  great ;  there  is  little  shoot- 
ing. The  people  consist  of  huge  Bedawin  tribes,  and  of  a 
settled  population  in  the  larger  villages.  Their  previous 
history  under  the  Sultans  would  show  them  fanatical.  I 
have  not  found  them  the  least  so ;  in  fact  I  think  them 
even  less  so  than  the  Arabs  of  Cairo.  If  you  got  two 
years'  leave  from  H.M.'s  Government,  you  would  lose 
nothing.  You  know  the  position  of  Darfur;  its  frontier 
through  Wadi  is  only  fifteen  days  from  Lake  Tchad. 
On  the  other  side  of  Lake  Tchad  you  come  on  another 
sultanate,  that  of  Bowmon,  and  you  then  near  the  Gulf 
of  Guinea.  Darfur  is  healthy.  You  will  (D.V.)  soon 
have  the  telegraph  to  your  capital,  El  Tascher.  If  the 
Khedive  asks  you,  accept  the  post,  and  you  will  dp  a 
mint  of  good,  and  benefit  these  poor  people.  You  will 
also  see  working  out  curious  problems ;  you  will  see 
these  huge  tribes  of  Bedawins,  to  whom  the  Bedawin 
tribes  of  Arabia  are  as  naught  ;  you  will  trace  their 
history,  etc.  ;  and  you  will  open  relations  with  Wadai, 
Baginni,  etc.  I  know  that  you  have  much  important 
work  at  the  Consulate,  with  the  ship  captains,  etc.,  and 
of  course  it  would  not  be  easy  to  replace  you  ;  but  it 
is  not  every  day  you  use  your  knowledge  of  Asiatics  or 
of  Arabia.  Now  is  the  time  for  you  to  make  your 
indelible  mark  in  the  world  and  in  these  countries. 
You  will  be  remembered  in  the  literary  world,  but 
I  would  sooner  be  remembered  in  Egypt  as  having 
made  Darfur.  I  hope,  if  his  Highness  writes  to  you, 


656      zrbe  "Romance  of  Ssabel  Xaop  Burton 

you  will  ask  for  two  years'  leave  and  take  the  post  as 
Governor-General.     You  are  Commandant  of  Civil  and 
Military  and  Finance,  and  have  but  very  little  to  do 
with  me  beyond  demanding  what  you  may  want. 
a  Believe  me, 

"  Yours  sincerely, 

"C.  G.  GORDON." 

Burton's  reply  was  very  characteristic  : 

"My  DEAR  GORDON, 

"  You  and  I  are  too  much  alike.  I  could  not 
serve  under  you,  nor  you  under  me.  I  do  not  look 
upon  the  Soudan  as  a  lasting  thing.  I  have  nothing  to 
depend  upon  but  my  salary;  and  I  have  a  wife,  and  you 
have  not." 

X 

Perhaps  too  Burton  was  a  little  annoyed  at  Gordon 
apparently  taking  it  for  granted  that  he  would  jump  at 
Darfur.  Much  as  he  loathed  Trieste  and  the  life  of 
fprced  inaction  there,  he  felt  this  might  be  to  exchange 
the  frying-pan  for  the  fire.  Pending  Burton's  answer, 
Gordon  followed  up  his  first  letter  by  two  more: 


"  OOMCHANGA,   DARFUR,  June  2J, 

"  MY  DEAR  BURTON, 

"  Thanks  for  your  letter  May  9,  received  to- 
day. I  have  answered.  .  .  .  Would  you  be  bothered 
with  him  ?  I  feel  certain  you  would  not.  What  is  the 
use  of  such  men  in  these  countries  ;  they  are,  as  Speke 
was  to  you,  infinitely  more  bother  than  use.  Then  why 


Oorbon  ano  tbe  Burtons  657 

do  you  put  him  on  me  ?      I  have  had  enough  trouble 
with  them  already. 

"  You  will  have  my  letter  about  Darfur.  I  must  say 
your  task  will  not  be  pleasant  ;  but  you  talk  Arabic, 
which  I  do  not ;  and  you  will  have  much  to  interest 
you,  for  most  of  the  old  Darfur  families  are  of  Moham- 
med's family. 

"  I  dare  say  you  wonder  how  I  can  get  on  without  an 
interpreter  and  not  knowing  Arabic.  I  do  not  believe 
in  man's  free-will,  and  therefore  believe  all  things  are 
from  God  and  preordained.  Such  being  the  case,  the 
judgments  or  decisions  I  give  are  fixed  to  be  thus  or 
thus,  whether  I  have  exactly  hit  off  all  the  circum- 
stances or  not.  This  is  my  raft,  and  on  it  I  manage  to 
float  along,  thanks  to  God,  more  or  less  successfully.  I 
do  not  pretend  my  belief  could  commend  itself  to  any 
wisdom  or  science,  or  in  fact  anything  ;  but  as  I  have 
said  elsewhere,  a  bag  of  rice  jolting  along  these  roads 
could,  if  it  had  the  gift  of  speech,  and  if  it  were  God's 
will,  do  as  well  as  I  do.  You  may  not  agree  with  me. 
Keep  your  own  belief.  I  get  my  elixir  from  mine — viz. 
that  with  these  views  I  am  comfortable,  whether  I  am  a 
failure  or  not,  and  can  disregard  the  world's  summary 
of  what  I  do,  or  of  what  I  do  not  do. 

"  Yours  sincerely, 

"C.  G.  GORDON/* 

MDARA,/«/y  1 8,  1877. 

"  MY  DEAR  BURTON, 

"  I  have  got  round   to  Dara  vid  Toashia,  and 
hope  in  four  or  five  days  to  get  to  Tascher.     The  soi- 

42 


658       Ube  IRomance  of  5sabel  Xaop  JSurton 

disant  Sultan  Haroun  is  said  to  have  left  Tamee.     The 
people  are  very  good.     They  have  been  driven  into 
this  revolt.     Most   of  the  tribes  have  given  in  their 
subscription.     The  Fors,    or   original   natives   of  the 
land,  are  the  only  people  partially  in  revolt.     Dar  For 
is  the  land  of  Fors,  as  Dar  Fertit  is  the  land  of  the 
Fertits.     You  would  find  much  to  interest  you  here, 
for  the  Ulemas  are  well-read  people,  and  know  the  old 
history.     I  found  a  lot  of  chain  armour  here,  just  like 
the  armour  of  Saladin's  people,  time  of  the  Crusades, 
with   old   helmets,  some  embossed  with  gold.     They 
were  taken  from  the  Sultan  Ibrahim's  bodyguard  when 
he  was  killed.     The  sheep  are  wonderful ;  some  with  a 
regular  mane.     The  people  would  delight  in  the  interest 
you  would  take  in  them.     When  the  Egyptians  took 
the  country  here,  they  seized  an  ancient  mosque  for  a 
mug.     I  have  given  it  back  and  endowed  it.     There 
was  a  great  ceremony,  and  the  people  are  delighted. 
It   is   curious  how  these  Arab    tribes    came  'up  here. 
It  appears  those  of  Biernan    and  Bagerini  came  from 
Tripoli ;  the  others  came  up  the  Nile.     The  Dar  Fertit 
lies  between  these  semi-Mussulman  lands  and  the  Negro 
lands  proper.     On  the  border  are  the  Niam-Niam,  who 
circumcise.     I   suppose  they  took   it   from  these  Arab 
tribes.     I  only  hope  you  will  come  up.     You  will  (D.V.) 
find  no  great  trouble  here  by  that  time,  and  none  of  the 
misery  I  have  had. 

"  Believe  me, 

"Yours  sincerely, 

"C.  G.  GORDON." 


(Boroon  ano  tbe  Burtons  659 

A  few  weeks  later  Burton's  laconic  refusal  of  Darfur 
reached  Gordon.  That  Gordon  was  nettled  a  little  is 
apparent  from  the  opening  paragraph  of  the  following 
letter.  But  he  was  far  too  just  not  to  understand  ;  and 
so  far  from  resenting  Burton's  frankness,  as  a  lesser 
man  might  have  done,  this  incident  only  served  to  make 
him  appreciate  his  rare  qualities  the  more  : 

u  EN  ROUTE  TO  BERBER,  October  19,  1877. 

"  MY  DEAR  CAPTAIN  BURTON, 

"  £1,600,  or  indeed  £16,000,  would  never  com- 
pensate a  man  for  a  year  spent  actively  in  Darfur. 
But  I  considered  you,  from  your  independence,  one  of 
Nature's  nobility,  who  did  not  serve  for  money.  Excuse 
the  mistake — if  such  it  is. 

"I  am  now  going  to  Dongola  and  Assouan,  and 
thence  to  Massowah  to  see  Johannis,1  and  then  to 
Berberah  vis-a-vis  Aden,  near  your  old  friends  the 
Somalis.  (Now  there  is  a  government  which  might 
suit  you,  and  which  you  might  develop,  paying  off  old 
scores  by  the  way  for  having  thwarted  you  ;  it  is  too 
far  off  for  me  to  hope  to  do  anything.)  I  then  return 
to  Kartoum,  and  then  go  to  Darfur  and  return  to 
Kartoum,  and  then  go  to  the  Lakes.  Why  do  people 
die  in  these  countries  ?  Do  not  you,  who  are  a  philoso- 
pher, think  it  is  due  to  moral  prostration  more  than  to 
the  climate  ?  I  think  so,  and  have  done  so  for  a  long 
time.  My  assistant,  Prout,2  has  been  lingering  on  the 

1  Johannis,  King  of  Abyssinia. 

•  Colonel  Prout,  of  the  American  army,  for  some  time  in  command 
of  the  Equatorial  Provinces. 


66o      Ube  TComance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

grave's  brink  for  a  long  time,  and  I  doubt  if  he  will 
go  up  again.  I  have  no  fear  of  dying  in  any  climate. 
'  Men  now  seek  honours,  not  honour.'  You  put  that 
in  one  of  your  books.  Do  you  remember  it  ?  How 
true  it  is !  I  have  often  pirated  it,  and  not  acknow- 
ledged the  author,  though  I  believe  you  stole  it.  I 
see  Wilson  is  now  Sir  Andrew.  Is  it  on  account  of  his 
father's  decease  ?  How  is  he  ?  He  wanted  to  come 
out,  but  he  could  not  bear  the  fatigue.  All  these 
experiments  of  the  King  of  the  Belgians  will  come  to 
grief,  in  spite  of  the  money  they  have ;  the  different 
nationalities  doom  them.  Kaba  Rega,1  now  that  we 
have  two  steamers  on  Lake  Albert  (which,  by  the  way, 
is,  according  to  Mason,  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles 
longer  than  Gessi  made  it),  asks  for  peace,  which  I 
am  delighted  at;  he  never  was  to  blame,  and  you  will 
see  that,  if  you  read  how  Baker  treated  him  and  his 
ambassadors.  Baker  certainly  gave  me  a  nice  job  in 
raising  him  against  the  Government  so  unnecessarily, 
even  on  his  own  showing  (vide  his  book  Ismdilia],  Judge 
iustly.  Little  by  little  we  creep  on  to  our  goal — viz.  the 
two  Jakes ;  and  nothing  can  stop  usy  I  think.  Mtesa  is 
very  good  friends,  and  agrees  much  more  with  us  than 
with  your  missionaries.  You  know  the  hopelessness 
of  such  a  task,  till  you  find  a  St.  Paul  or  St.  John. 
Their  representatives  nowadays  want  so  much  a  year 
and  a  contract.  It  is  all  nonsense ;  no  one  will  stay  four 
years  out  there.  I  would  like  to  hear  you  hold  forth 

1  King  of  Unyoro,  a  powerful  and  treacherous  savage.  Sir 
Samuel  Baker  attempted  to  depose  him,  but  Kaba  Rega  maintained 
his  power. 


Gordon  an&  tbe  JBurtons  661 

on  the  idol  *  Livingstone,'  etc.,  and  on  the  slave- 
trade.  Setting  aside  the  end  to  be  gained,  I  think 
that  Slave  Convention  is  a  very  just  one  in  many  ways 
towards  the  people;  but  we  are  not  an  over-just  nation 
towards  the  weak.  I  suppose  you  know  that  old 
creature  Grant,  who  for  seventeen  or  eighteen  years 
has  traded  on  his  wonderful  walk.  I  am  grateful  to 
say  he  does  not  trouble  me  now.  I  would  also  like  to 
discuss  with  you  the  wonderful  journey  of  Cameron, 
but  We  are  too  far  apart ;  though  when  you  are  at 
Akata  or  For,  I  shall  be  at  Berenice  or  Suakin.  It 
was  very  kind  of  you  offering  me  Faulkner.  Do  you 
remember  his  uncle  in  R.  N.  ?  Stanley  will  give  them 
some  bother ;  they  cannot  bear  him,  and  in  my  belief 
rather  wished  he  had  not  come  through  safe.  He  will 
give  them  a  dose  for  their  hard  speeches.  He  is  to 
blame  for  writing  what  he  did  (as  Baker  was).  These 
things  may  be  done,  but  not  advertised.  I  shall  now 
conclude  with  kind  regards, 

*'  Yours  sincerely, 

"C.  G.  GORDON." 

While  Lady  Burton  was  alone  at  Suez  in  the  March 
of  the  following  year  (1878),  waiting  to  meet  her 
husband  on  his  return  from  the  expedition  to  Midian, 
Gordon  arrived  there.  He  of  course  hastened  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  Burton's  wife.  He  stayed 
a  week  at  Suez,  and  during  that  time  Isabel  and 
he  saw  one  another  every  day.  She  found  him  "  very 
eccentric,  but  very  charming.  I  say  eccentric,  until 
you  got  to  know  and  understand  him."  A  warm 


662      ftbe  TComance  of  Ssabel  Xafcp  JBurton 

friendship  sprang  up  between  the  two,  for  they  had 
much  to  talk  about  and  much  in  common.  They  were 
both  Christian  mystics  (I  use  the  term  in  the  highest 
sense)  ;  and  though  they  differed  on  many  points  of 
faith  (for  Isabel  held  that  Catholicism  was  the  highest 
form  of  Christian  mysticism,  and  in  this  Gordon  did 
not  agree  with  her),  they  were  at  one  in  regarding 
religion  as  a  vital  principle  and  a  guiding  rule  of  life 
and  action.  They  were  at  one  too  in  their  love  of 
probing 

Things  more  true  and  deep 
Than  we  mortals  know. 

With  regard  to  more  mundane  matters,  Gordon  did 
not  scruple  to  pour  cold  water  on  the  Burtons'  golden 
dream  of  wealth  from  the  Mines  of  Midian,  and 
frankly  told  Isabel  that  the  "  Midian  Myth  "  was  worth 
very  little,  and  that  Burton  would  do  much  better  to 
throw  in  his  lot  with  him.  Isabel,  however,  did  not  see 
things  in  the  same  light,  and  she  was  confident  of  the 
future  of  Midian,  and  had  no  desire  to  go  to  Darfur. 
When  Burton  returned  from  Midian  in  April,  and 
he  and  his  wife  went  to  Cairo  at  the  request  of  the 
Khedive,  they  saw  a  good  deal  of  Gordon  again.  He 
and  Burton  discussed  affairs  thoroughly — especially 
Egyptian  affairs — and  Gordon  again  expressed  his  regret 
that  Burton  did  not  see  his  way  to  joining  him.  When 
Burton  was  in  London  later  in  the  year,  he  received 
the  following  letter  from  Gordon,  in  which  he  renewed 
his  offer,  increasing  the  salary  from  £1,600  to  £5,000 
a  year. 


Oor&on  ant)  tbe  Burtons  663 

"  KARTOUM,  August  8,  1878. 

'Mr  DEAR  BURTON, 

"  Please  date,  or  rather  put  address  on  your 
letters.  Thanks  for  yours  of  July  4,  received  to-day. 
I  am  very  sorry  Mrs.  Burton  is  not  well,  but  hope 
England  has  enabled  her  to  regain  her  health.  My 
arrangement  is  letter  for  letter.  If  you  write,  I  will 
answer.  I  wish  you  could  undertake  the  Government 
of  Zeyla,  Harar,  and  Berberah,  and  free  me  of  the 
bother.  Why  cannot  you  get  two  years'  leave  from 
F.  O.,  then  write  (saying  it  is  my  suggestion)  to 
H.H.,  and  offer  it?  I  could  give,  say,  .£5,000  a 
year  from  London  to  your  Government.  Do  do 
something  to  help  me,  and  do  it  without  further 
reference  to  me  ;  you  would  lift  a  burthen  off  my 
shoulders.  I  have  now  to  stay  at  Kartoum  for 
the  finances.  I  am  in  a  deplorable  state.  I  have  a 
nasty  revolt  of  Slandralus  at  Bahr  Gazelle,  which 
will  cost  me  some  trouble ;  I  mean  not  to  fight 
them,  but  to  blockade  them  into  submission.  I 
am  now  hard  at  work  against  the  slave  caravans ; 
we  have  caught  fifteen  in  two  months,  and  I  hope 
by  a  few  judicious  hangings  to  stop  their  work.  I 
hanged  a  man  the  other  day  for  making  a  eunuch 
without  asking  H.H.'s  leave.  Emin  Effendi,  now 
Governor  of  Equator  Province,  is  Dr.  Sneitzer ;  but 
he  is  furious  if  you  mention  it,  and  denies  that  is 
his  name  to  me  ;  he  declares  he  is  a  Turk.  There 
is  something  queer  about  him  which  I  do  not  under- 
stand; he  is  a  queer  fellow,  very  cringing  in  general, 
but  sometimes  bursts  out  into  his  natural  form. 


664      Ube  iRomance  ot  Isabel  OLabp  Burton 

He  came  up  here  in  a  friendless  state.  He  is  per- 
haps the  only  riddle  I  have  met  with  in  life.  He 
is  the  man  Amspldt  spoke  to  you  about.  Amspldt 
was  a  useless  fellow,  and  he  has  no  reason  to 
complain  of  Emin  Effendi.  I  have  sent  Gessi  up 
to  see  after  the  slave-dealers'  outbreak.  He  was 
humble  enough.  Good-bye  !  Kind  regards  to  Mrs. 
Burton. 

"Yours  sincerely, 

"C.  G.  GORDON." 


Burton  again  refused,  giving  the  same  reasons  as 
before,  and  reiterating  his  opinion  that  the  existing 
state  of  affairs  in  the  Soudan  could  not  last.  Gordon, 
seeing  his  decision  was  not  to  be  shaken,  acquiesced, 
and  did  not  ask  him  again.  Moreover  he  was  losing 
faith  in  the  Soudan  himself.  A  few  months  later  we 
have  him  writing  as  follows : 

"  KARTOUM,  November  20,  1878. 

"  My  DEAR  BURTON, 

"  Thanks  for  your  letter  of  October  6,  received 
to-day.  I  have  not  forgotten  the  manuscript  from 
Harar,  nor  the  coins. 

"  I  wish  much  I  could  get  a  European  to  go 
to  Berberah,  Zeyla,  and  Harar,  at  £1,200  or 
£1,500,  a  really  good  man.  They  keep  howling 
for  troops,  and  give  me  a  deal  of  trouble.  Our 
finances  take  up  all  my  time  ;  I  find  it  best  to  look 


(Borfcon  ano  tbe  Burtons  665 

after  them  myself,  and  so  I  am  kept  close  at  work. 
We  owe  £300,000  floating  debt,  but  not  to  Euro- 
peans, and  our  -present  expenditure  exceeds  revenue 


"  Rossit,  who  took  your  place  in  Darfur,  died  the 
other  day  there,  after  three  and  a  half  months'  residence; 
he  is  a  serious  loss  to  me,  for  the  son  of  Zebahr  with 
his  slave-dealers  is  still  in  revolt.  Cairo  and  Nubia 
never  take  any  notice  of  me,  nor  do  they  answer  my 
questions. 

"  I  have  scotched  the  slave-trade,  and  Wyld  of  Jeddah 
says  that  scarcely  any  slaves  pass  over,  and  that  the 
people  of  Jeddah  are  disgusted.  It  is,  however,  only 
scotched.  I  am  blockading  all  roads  to  the  slave 
districts,  and  I  expect  to  make  the  slave-  dealers  now 
in  revolt  give  in,  for  they  must  be  nearly  out  of  stores. 
I  have  indeed  a  very  heavy  task,  for  I  have  to  do 
everything  myself.  Kind  regards  to  Mrs.  Burton 
and  yourself. 

"  Believe  me, 

"  Yours  sincerely, 

"C.  G.  GORDON. 

"  P.S.  —  Personally  I  am  very  weary  and  tired  of  the 
inaction  at  Kartoum,  with  its  semi-state,  a  thing  which 
bores  me  greatly." 

The  following  year  Burton's  prescience  proved  true. 
The  Soudan  was  "  not  a  lasting  thing,"  so  far  as 
Gordon  was  concerned.  Ismail  Khedive  had  abdicated, 
and  Tewfik  his  son  ruled  in  his  stead  ;  and  Gordon, 


666      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

dissatisfied  with  many  things,  finally  threw  up  his  post 
on  account  of  the  Slave  Convention.  Though  he 
placed  his  resignation  in  the  Khedive's  hands,  Tewfik 
begged  him  to  undertake  a  mission  to  Abyssinia. 
While  he  was  on  the  journey  he  wrote  the  following 
to  Burton  : 


"En  ROUTE  TO  MASSOWAH,  RED  SEA, 
"August  31,  1879. 

"  MY  DEAR  BURTON, 

"  Thanks  for  several  little  notes  from  you,  and 
one  from  Mrs.  Burton,  and  also  for  the  papers  you 
sent  me.  I  have  been  on  my  travels,  and  had  not  time 
to  write.  An  Italian  has  egged  on  Johannis  to  be 
hostile,  and  so  I  have  to  go  to  Massowah  to  settle 
the  affair  if  I  can.  I  then  hope  to  go  home  for  good, 
for  the  slave-hunters  (thanks  to  Gessi)  have  col- 
lapsed, and  it  will  take  a  long  time  to  rebuild  again, 
even  if  fostered  by  my  successor.  I  like  the  new 
Khedive  immensely  ;  but  I  warn  you  that  all  Midian 
guiles  will  be  wasted  on  him,  and  Mrs.  Burton  ought 
to  have  taken  the  £3,000  I  offered  her  at  Suez,  and 
which  she  scoffed  at,  saying,  *  You  would  want  that 
for  gloves.'  Do  you  wear  those  skin  coverings  to 
your  paws  ?  I  do  not !  No,  the  days  of  Arabian 
Nights  are  over,  and  stern  economy  now  rules.  Tewfik 
seeks  '  honour,  not  honours.'  I  do  not  know  what  he 
will  do  with  the  Soudan  ;  he  is  glad,  I  think  (indeed 
feel  sure),  I  am  going.  I  was  becoming  a  too 
powerful  Satrap.  The  general  report  at  Cairo  was  that 
I  meditated  rebellion  even  under  Ismail  the  '  incurable,' 


(Borfcon  an&  tbe  JSuttons  667 

and   now   they   cannot    imagine   why   I    am    so   well 
received  by  the  new  Khedive. 
"  Believe  me, 

**  Yours  sincerely, 

"C.  G.  GORDON." 

Gordon  was  not  the  only  one  who  suffered  by  the 
change  of  Khedive.  Burton,  as  Gordon  had  foretold, 
came  to  grief  over  the  Mines  of  Midian,  for  Tewfik 
declined  to  be  bound  by  any  promise  of  his  father ; 
and  though  Burton  went  to  Egypt  to  interview  the 
Khedive,  to  see  if  he  could  do  anything,  his  efforts 
were  of  no  avail.  Meanwhile  Isabel,  who  had  come 
to  London  mainly  tor  medical  treatment,  was  moving 
heaven  and  earth  to  see  if  she  could  induce  the  English 
Government  to  stir  in  the  matter  ;  but  they  naturally 
declined.  Isabel  wrote  to  Gordon,  who  had  now  come 
home  from  Egypt,  on  this  and  other  matters.  She 
received  from  him  the  following  letters  in  answer  to 
her  request  and  inquiries  concerning  the  state  of  affairs 
in  Egypt: 

"U.S.  CLUB,  PALL  MALL, 
"  4.2.80. 

"  MY  DEAR  MRS.  BURTON, 

"  You  write  to  an  orb  which  is  setting,  or  rather 
is  set.  I  have  no  power  to  aid  your  husband  in  any 
way.  I  went  to  F.  O.  to-day,  and,  as  you  know, 

Lord  is  very  ill.      Well  !  the  people  there  were 

afraid  of  me,  for  I  have  written  hard  things  to  them  ; 
and  though  they  knew  all,  they  would  say  naught.     I 


668      ttbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

said,  '  Who  is  the  personification  of  Foreign  Office  ? ' 
They  said,  '  X  is.*  I  saw  *  X  *  ;  but  he  tried  to  evade 
my  question — i.e.  Would  F.  O.  do  anything  to  pre- 
vent the  Soudan  falling  into  chaos  ?  It  was  no  use.  I 
cornered  him,  and  he  then  said,  *  /  am  merely  a  clerk 
to  register  letters  coming  in  and  going  out}  So  then  I 
gave  it  up,  and  marvelled.  I  must  say  I  was  surprised 
to  see  such  a  thing  ;  a  great  Government  like  ours 
governed  by  men  who  dare  not  call  their  souls  their 

own.     Lord rules  them  with  a  rod  of  iron.     If 

your  husband  would  understand  that  F.  O.  at  present 

is  Lord (and  he  is  ///),  he  would  see  that  I  can 

do  nothing.  I  have  written  letters  to  F.  O.  that  would 
raise  a  corpse  ;  it  is  no  good.  I  have  threatened  to 
go  to  the  French  Government  about  the  Soudan  ;  it  is 
no  good.  In  fact,  my  dear  Mrs.  Burton,  I  have  done 
for  myself  with  this  Government,  and  you  may  count 
me  a  feather,  for  I  am  worth  no  more.  Will  you 
send  this  on  to  your  husband?  He  is  a  first-rate 
fellow,  and  I  wish  I  had  seen  him  long  ago  (scratch 
this  out,  for  he  will  fear  I  am  going  to  borrow  money)  ; 
and  believe  me,  my  dear  Mrs.  Burton  (pardon  me 
about  Suez), 

"Yours  sincerely, 

«C.  G.  GORDON." 

"H6TEL  TAUCAN,  LAUSANNE, 
"12.3.80. 

4'My  DEAR  MRS.  BURTON, 

"  Excuse  my  not  answering  your  kind  note  of 
5.3.80  before;  but  to  be  quiet  I  have  come  abroad,  and 


(Boroon  ant)  tbe  Burtons  669 

did  not  have  a  decided  address,  so  I  only  got  your  letter 
to-day.  I  will  come  and  see  you  when  I  (D.V.)  come 
home  ;  but  that  is  undecided.  Of  course  your  husband 
failed  with  Tewfik.  I  scent  carrion  a  long  way  off,  and 
felt  that  the  hour  of  my  departure  from  Egypt  had 
come,  so  I  left  quietly.  Instead  of  A  (Ismail),  who 
was  a  good  man,  you  have  B  (Tewfik),  who  may  be 
good  or  bad,  as  events  will  allow  him.  B  is  the  true 
son  of  A ;  but  has  the  inexperience  of  youth,  and  may 
be  smarter.  The  problem  working  out  in  the  small 
brains  of  Tewfik  is  this  :  e  My  father  lost  his  throne 
because  he  scented  the  creditors.  The  Government  only 
cared  for  the  creditors ;  they  did  not  care  for  good 
government.  So  if  I  look  after  the  creditors,  I  may 
govern  the  country  as  I  like.'  No  doubt  Tewfik  is 
mistaken ;  but  these  are  his  views,  backed  up  by  a 
ring  of  pashas.  Now  look  at  his  Ministry.  Are  they 
not  aliens  to  Egypt?  They  are  all  slaves  or  of  low 
origin.  Put  their  price  down  : 

Riaz  Pasha,  a  dancing-boy  of  Abbas  Pasha, 

value .......  350 

A  slave,  Osman,  Minister  of  War,  turned  out 

by  me  .  .  .  .  .  -35° 

Etc.,  etc.,  etc.,  each — five    .         .          35°=  T>75° 


2,450 

So  that  the  value  of  the  Ministry  (which  we  think  an 
enlightened  one)  is  £490.  What  do  they  care  for  the 
country  ?  Not  a  jot.  We  ought  to  sweep  all  this  lot 


670      Ube  TComance  of  -Jsabel  %at>p  SSurton 

out,  and  the  corresponding  lot  at  Stamboul.  It  is 
hopeless  and  madness  to  think  that  with  such  material 
you  can  do  anything.  Good-bye.  Kind  regards  to 
your  husband. 

"  Believe  me, 

"Yours  sincerely, 

MC.  G.  GORDON." 

"PARIS,  2.4.80. 
"  MY  DEAR  MRS.  BURTON, 

"Thanks  for  your  telegram  and  your  letter. 
Excuse  half-sheet  (economy).  No,  I  will  not  write 
to  Cairo,  and  your  letters  rre  all  torn  up.  I  am  going 
to  Brussels  in  a  few  days,  and  after  a  stay  there  I 
come  over  to  England.  I  do  not  like  or  believe  in 
Nubar.  He  is  my  horror  ;  for  he  led  the  old  ex- 
Khedive  to  his  fall,  though  Nubar  owed  him  every- 
thing. When  Ismail  became  Khedive,  Nubar  had  ^3 
a  month ;  he  now  owns  ;£  1,000,000.  Things  will 
not  and  cannot  go  straight  in  Egypt,  and  I  would  say, 
'Let  them  glide.'  Before  long  time  elapses  things 
will  come  to  a  crisis.  The  best  way  is  to  let  all 
minor  affairs  rest,  and  to  consider  quietly  how  the 
ruin  is  to  fall.  It  must  fall  ere  long.  United  Bulgaria, 
Syria  France,  and  Egypt  England.  France  would 
then  have  as  much  interest  in  repelling  Russia  as  we 
have.  Supposing  you  got  out  Riaz,  why,  you  would 
have  Riaz's  brother ;  and  if  you  got  rid  of  the  latter, 
you  would  have  Riaz's  nephew.  Le  plus  on  change, 
le  plus  c'est  la  meme  chose.  We  may,  by  stimulants, 
keep  the  life  in  them;  but  as  long  as  the  body  of 


(Boroon  ano  tbe  Burtons  671 

the  people  are  unaffected,  so  long  will  it  be  corruption 
in  high  places,  varying  in  form,  not  in  matter. 
Egypt  is  usurped  by  the  family  of  the  Sandjeh  of 
Salonique,  and  (by  our  folly)  we  have  added  a  ring 
of  Circassian  pashas.  The  whole  lot  should  go  ;  they 
are  as  much  strangers  as  we  would  be.  Before  we 
began  muddling  we  had  only  to  deal  with  the  Salonique 
family;  now  we  have  added  the  ring,  who  say,  *We  are 
Egypt.''  We  have  made  Cairo  a  second  Stamboul.  So 
much  the  better.  Let  these  locusts  fall  together.  As 
well  expect  any  reform,  any  good  sentiment,  from  these 
people  as  water  from  a  stone  ;  the  extract  you  wish  to 
get  does  not  and  cannot  exist  in  them.  Remember 
I  do  not  say  this  of  the  Turkish  peasantry  or  of  the 
Egyptian- born  poor  families.  It  is  written,  Egypt  shall 
be  the  prey  of  nations,  and  so  she  has  been  ;  she  is 
the  servant ;  in  fact  Egypt  does  not  really  exist.  It  is 
a  nest  of  usurpers. 

"  Believe  me, 

"Yours  sincerely, 

"C.  G.  GORDON." 

A  day  or  two  after  the  date  or  this  last  letter  Gordon 
returned  to  London,  and  went  several  times  to  see 
Isabel,  who  was  ill  in  lodgings  in  Upper  Montagu 
Street,  and  very  anxious  about  her  husband  and  the 
Midian  Mines.  Gordon's  prospects  too  were  far  from 
rosy  at  this  time,  so  that  they  were  companions  in 
misfortune.  They  discussed  Egypt  and  many  things. 
Isabel  writes:  "I  remember  on  April  15,  1880,  he 
asked  me  if  I  knew  the  origin  of  the  Union  Jack,  and 


6?  2      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  Burton 

he  sat  down  on  my  hearth-rug  before  the  fire,  cross- 
legged,  with  a  bit  of  paper  and  a  pair  of  scissors,  and 
he  made  me  three  or  four  Union  Jacks,  of  which  I 
pasted  one  in  my  journal  of  that  day ;  and  I  never 
saw  him  again."  l  She  also  writes  elsewhere  :  "  I  shall 
never  forget  how  kind  and  sympathetic  he  was  ;  but 
he  always  said,  '  As  God  has  willed  it,  so  will  it  be.' 
That  was  the  burden  of  his  talk  :  '  As  God  has  willed 
it,  so  will  it  be/  ' 

In  May  Burton  wrote  to  Lord  Granville,  pointing 
out  that  Riaz  Pasha  was  undoing  all  Gordon's  anti- 
slavery  work,  and  asking  for  a  temporary  appointment 
as  Slave  Commissioner  in  the  Soudan  and  Red  Sea,  to 
follow  up  the  policy  of  anti-slavery  which  Gordon  had 
begun.  This  Lord  Granville  refused. 

Gordon  went  to  many  places — India,  China,  the 
Cape — and  played  many  parts  during  the  next  three 
years ;  but  he  still  continued  to  correspond  with  Isabel 
and  her  husband  at  intervals,  though  his  correspondence 
referred  mainly  to  private  matters,  and  was  of  no  public 
interest.  In  1883  he  wrote  the  following  to  Burton 
from  Jerusalem,  anent  certain  inquiries  in  which  he  was 
much  interested: 

"JERUSALEM,  June  3,  1883. 

"  MY  DEAR  BURTON, 

"I  have  a  favour  to  ask,  which  I  will  begin 
with,  and  then  go  on  to  other  subjects.  In  1878  (I 
think)  I  sent  you  a  manuscript  in  Arabic,  copy  of  the 

1  Life  of  Sir  Richard  Burton,  by  Isabel  his  wife,  vol.  ii.,  p.  177. 


<3oroon  ano  tbe  Burtons  673 

manuscript  you  discovered  in  Harar.  I  want  you  to 
lend  it  to  me  for  a  month  or  so,  and  will  ask  you  in 
sending  it  to  register  it.  This  is  the  favour  I  want  from 
you.  I  have  time  and  means  to  get  it  fairly  translated, 
and  I  will  do  this  for  you.  I  will  send  you  the  transla- 
tion and  the  original  back  ;  and  if  it  is  worth  it,  you 
will  publish  it.  I  hope  you  and  Mrs.  Burton  are 
well.  Sorry  that  £  s.  d.  keep  you  away  from  the 
East,  for  there  is  much  to  interest  here  in  every  way, 
and  you  would  be  useful  to  me  as  an  encyclopaedia  of 
oriental  lore;  as  it  is,  Greek  is  looked  on  by  me  as 
hieroglyphics. 

c<  Here  is  result  of  my  studies  :  The  whole  of  the 
writers  on  Jerusalem,  with  few  exceptions,  fight  for 
Zion  on  the  Western  Hill,  and  put  the  whole  Jerusalem 
in  tribe  Benjamin  !  I  have  worked  this  out,  and  to 
me  it  is  thus  :  The  whole  question  turns  on  the  posi- 
tion of  En-shemesh,  which  is  generally  placed,  for  no 
reason  I  know  of,  at  Ain  Hand.  I  find  Kubbat  el 
Sama,  which  corresponds  to  Basthsamys  of  the  Septuagint 
at  the  north  of  Jerusalem,  and  I  split  Jerusalem  by  the 
Tyropoean  Valley  (alias  the  Gibeon  of  Eden,  of  which 
more  another  time). 

"  Anyway  one  can  scarcely  cut  Judah  out  of  Jeru- 
salem altogether ;  yet  that  is  always  done,  except 
by  a  few.  If  the  juncture  is  as  I  have  drawn  it, 
it  brings  Gibeon,  Nob,  and  Mizpah  all  down  too 
close  to  Jerusalem  on  the  Western  Hills.  This  is 
part  of  my  studies.  Here  is  the  Skull  Hill  north 
of  the  City  (traced  from  map,  ordnance  of  1864), 
which  I  think  is  the  Golgotha ;  for  the  victims  were 

43 


674      Ube  Romance  of  Ssabel  Zaog  Burton 

to  be  slain  on  north  of  altar,  not  west,  as  the 
Latin  Holy  Sepulchre.  This  hill  is  close  to  the 
old  church  of  St.  Stephen,  and  I  believe  that 
eventually  near  here  will  be  found  the  Constantine 
churches. 

"  I  have  been,  and  still  am,  much  interested  in  these 
parts,  and  as  it  is  cheap  I  shall  stop  here.  I  live  at 
Ain  Karim,  five  miles  from  Jerusalem.  There  are  few 
there  who  care  for  antiquities.  Schink,  an  old  German, 
is  the  only  one  who  is  not  a  bigot.  Have  you  ever 
written  on  Palestine  ?  I  wondered  you  never  followed 
up  your  visit  to  Harar;  that  is  a  place  of  great  interest. 
My  idea  is  that  the  Pison  is  the  Blue  Nile,  and  that  the 
sons  of  Joktan  were  at  Harar,  Abyssinia,  Godjam  ;  but 
it  is  not  well  supported. 

"  The  Rock  of  Harar  was  the  platform  Adam  was 
moulded  on  out  of  clay  from  the  Potter's  Field.  He  was 
then  put  in  Seychelles  (Eden),  and  after  Fall  brought 
back  to  Mount  Moriah  to  till  the  ground  in  the  place 
he  was  taken  from.  Noah  built  the  Ark  twelve 
miles  from  Jaffa,  at  Ain  Judeh ;  the  Flood  began  ;  the 
Ark  floated  up  and  rested  on  Mount  Baris,  afterwards 
Antonia  ;  he  sacrificed  on  the  Rock  (Adam  was  buried 
on  the  Skull  Hill,  hence  the  skull  under  the  cross). 
It  was  only  776  A.D.  that  Mount  Ararat  of  Armenia 
became  the  site  of  the  Ark's  descent.  Koran  says  Al 
Judi  (Ararat)  is  holy  land.  After  Flood  the  remnants 
went  east  to  Plain  of  Shimar.  Had  they  gone  east 
from  the  Al  Judi,  near  Mosul,  or  from  Armenian 
Ararat,  they  could  never  have  reached  Shimar.  Shem 
was  Melchizedek,  etc.,  etc. 


Ooroon  ano  tbe  Burtons  675 

"  With  kind  regards  to  Mrs.  Burton  and  you,  and 
the  hope  you  will  send  me  the  manuscript, 
"Believe  me, 

"  Yours  sincerely, 

"  C.  G.  GORDON. 

"P.S. — Did  you  ever  get  the  £1,000  I  offered  you 
on  part  of  ex-Khedive  for  the  Mines  of  Midian  ?  " 

Some  six  months  after  the  date  of  this  letter  Gordon 
left  England  for  the  Soudan,  and  later  went  to  Kartoum, 
with  what  result  all  the  world  knows.  Burton  said, 
when  the  Government  sent  Gordon  to  Kartoum,  they 
failed  because  they  sent  him  alone.  Had  they  sent  him 
with  five  hundred  soldiers  there  would  have  been  no 
war.  It  was  just  possible  at  the  time  that  Burton  might 
have  been  sent  instead  of  Gordon  ;  and  Isabel,  dreading 
this,  wrote  privately  to  the  Foreign  Office,  unknown  to 
her  husband,  to  let  them  know  how  ill  he  then  was. 

The  Burtons  were  profoundly  moved  at  the  death  of 
Gordon;  they  both  felt  it  with  a  keen  sense  of  personal 
loss.  Isabel  relates  that  in  one  of  the  illustrated  papers 
there  was  a  picture  of  Gordon  lying  in  the  desert,  his 
Bible  in  one  hand,  his  revolver  in  the  other,  and  the 
vultures  hovering  around.  Burton  said,  "  Take  it 
away  !  I  can't  bear  to  look  at  it.  I  have  had  to  feel 
that  myself ;  I  know  what  it  is."  But  upon  reflection 
Burton  grew  to  disbelieve  in  Gordon's  death,  and  he 
died  believing  that  he  had  escaped  into  the  desert,  but 
disgusted  at  his  betrayal  and  abandonment  he  would 
never  let  himself  be  discovered  or  show  himself  in 


676      ttbe  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcp  JSurton 

England  again.  In  this  conviction  Burton  was  of  course 
mistaken;  but  he  had  formed  it  on  his  knowledge  of 
Gordon's  character. 

I  am  aware  that  this  chapter  dealing  with  Gordon 
and  his  letters  is  something  of  an  interpolation,  and  has 
little  to  do  with  the  main  thread  of  the  story;  but  Lady 
Burton  wished  it  to  be  so,  and  its  irrelevance  may  be 
pardoned  for  the  sake  of  the  light  it  throws  upon  the 
friendship  which  existed  between  three  very  remarkable 
personages,  each  curiously  alike  in  some  respects,  and 
in  others  widely  dissimilar. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

THE    SWORD   HANGS 
(1885—1890) 

Life  is  no  holiday  :  therein 

Are  want  and  woe  and  sin, 

Death  with  nameless  fears;  and  over  all 

Our  pitying  tears  must  fall. 

The  hour  draws  near,  howe'er  delayed  or  late, 
When,  at  the  Eternal  Gale, 

We  leave  the  words  and  works  we  call  our  own, 
And  lift  void  hands  alone 

For  love  to  fill.     Our  nakedness  of  soul 
Brings  to  that  gate  no  toll : 
Giftless  we  come  to  Him  who  all  things  gives; 
And  live  because  He  lives. 

WHITTIER. 

IN  May,  1885,  Isabel  started  with  her  husband  for 
England.  They  travelled  together  as  far  as  Venice, 
and  here,  as  often,  they  parted,  and  went  their  separate 
ways.  Burton  was  ordered  to  go  by  sea  for  his  health, 
and  his  wife  arranged  to  proceed  by  land.  She  went 
round  by  way  of  Bologna,  and  thence  travelled  via 
Milan  and  Paris,  and  arrived  in  London  on  June  2. 
Her  husband  joined  her  twelve  days  later. 

677 


678      Ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  %at>s  JSurton 

They  had  two  objects  in  coming  to  London  at  this 
time — one  was  to  consult  physicians  concerning  Burton's 
health,  the  other  to  make  arrangements  concerning 
'The  Arabian  Nights.  The  production  of  this  book  may 
be  described  as  a  joint  affair  ;  for  though  the  lion's 
share  of  the  work  of  translating,  writing,  and  correcting 
proofs  devolved  upon  Burton  alone,  the  financial  part 
of  the  work  fell  upon  his  wife,  and  that  it  was  a  big 
thing  no  one  who  has  had  any  experience  of  writing  or 
publishing  would  deny.  There  were  several  editions  in 
the  field  ;  but  they  were  all  abridged  or  "  Bowdlerized  " 
ones,  adapted  more  or  less  for  "  family  and  domestic 
reading."  Burton's  object  in  bringing  out  this  great 
work  was  not  only  to  produce  a  literal  translation, 
but  to  reproduce  it  faithfully  in  the  Arabian  manner. 
He  preserved  throughout  the  orientation  of  the 
verses  and  figures  of  speech  instead  of  Anglicising 
them.  It  is  this,  combined  with  his  profound 
oriental  scholarship,  his  fine  old-world  style,  and  the 
richness,  variety,  and  quaintness  of  his  vocabulary, 
which  has  given  to  his  original  edition  its  unique 
value. 

In  Burton  the  immortal  tales  had  at  last  found  a  trans- 
lator who  would  do  them  justice,  and  who  was  not  afraid 
of  prejudices  of  Anglo-Saxon  Puritanism.  Burton's 
view  of  this  matter  is  sufficiently  expressed  in  the 
following  speech :  "  I  do  not  care  a  button  about 
being  prosecuted  ;  and  if  the  matter  comes  to  a  fight,  I 
will  walk  into  court  with  my  Bible  and  my  Shakspeare 
and  my  Rabelais  under  my  arm,  and  prove  to  them  that 
before  they  condemn  me  they  must  cut  half  of  them 


TTbe  Swort)  Dangs  679 

out,  and  not  allow  them  to  be  circulated  to  the  public."1 
He  expressed  his  views  in  this  matter  to  his  wife  ;  and 
though  at  his  wish  she  did  not  read  the  original  edition 
of  The  Arabian  Nights^  she  set  to  work  to  help  him  in 
every  way  that  she  could.  In  fact  it  may  be  truly  said 
that  it  was  she  who  did  all  the  difficult  work  of  evading 
the  "  vigilance  "  of  certain  persons,  and  of  arranging  for 
the  publication  of  this  important  book.  In  order  that 
her  husband's  original  text  might  be  copyrighted,  she 
herself  brought  out  an  expurgated  edition,  which  was 
called  the  "  Household  Edition."  By  this  means  she 
was  enabled  to  copyright  three  thousand  pages  of  her 
husband's  original  text,  and  only  excluded  two  hundred 
and  fifteen.  She  says,  "  Richard  forbade  me  to  read 
these  pages  until  he  blotted  out  with  ink  the  worst 
words,  and  desired  me  to  substitute  not  English  but 
Arab  society  words,  which  I  did  to  his  complete 
satisfaction."  Of  course  to  bring  out  a  work  of  this 
kind,  and  to  bear  the  whole  burden  of  the  labour  and 
initial  expense  of  it,  was  no  ordinary  task,  and  it  is  to 
Isabel's  efforts  and  to  her  marvellous  business  capacity 
that  the  credit  of  publishing  the  book  is  due.  From 
a  financial  point  of  view  the  Burtons  had  no  reason  to 
regret  their  venture.  At  the  beginning  a  publisher  had 
offered  Burton  £500  for  the  book ;  but  Isabel  said,  "  No, 
let  me  do  it."  It  was  seventeen  months'  hard  work, 
and  during  that  time  they  had  to  find  the  means  for 
printing  and  binding  and  circulating  the  volumes  as 
they  came  out.  The  Burtons  were  their  own  printers 

1  He  actually  compiled  a  book  of  quotations  from  the  Bible  and 
Shakspeare  for  use  in  case  of  need,  which  he  called  The  Black  Book, 


680      'Ebe  iRomance  of  Isabel  Xat>£  ^Button 

and  their  own  publishers,  and  they  made  between 
September,  1885,  and  November,  1888,  sixteen  thousand 
guineas,  six  thousand  of  which  went  towards  the 
expenses  of  publishing  and  ten  thousand  guineas  into 
their  own  pockets.  Isabel  writes,  "  It  came  just  in 
time  to  give  my  husband  the  comforts  and  luxuries 
and  freedom  which  gilded  the  last  five  years  of  his  life. 
When  he  died  there  were  four  florins  left,  which  I  put 
into  the  poor-box." 

They  had  a  very  pleasant  season  in  London.  They 
were  mainly  occupied  in  preparing  'The  Arabian  Nights  ; 
but  their  labours  over  for  the  day,  they  went  out  in 
society  a  great  deal.  Perhaps  the  most  noteworthy 
event  at  this  time  was  that  Isabel  made  a  long  speech 
at  St.  James's  Hall  at  a  meeting  for  the  purpose  of 
appealing  to  the  Pope  for  a  Circular  Letter  on  the 
subject  of  the  protection  of  animals.  The  meeting 
was  in  vain. 

The  first  volume  of  The  Arabian  Nights  came  out 
on  December  12,  1885,  and  the  sixteenth  volume,  the 
last  of  the  Supplemental s,  on  November  13,  1888. 
Thus  in  a  period  of  three  years  they  produced  twenty- 
two  volumes — namely,  ten  Originals,  six  Supplemental, 
and  Lady  Burton's  six  volumes  of  the  Household 
Edition. 

In  October,  1885,  they  went  down  to  Hatfield  on  a 
visit  to  Lord  and  Lady  Salisbury.  A  week  before  this 
Burton,  having  heard  that  Sir  John  Drummond  Hay, 
Consul  at  Morocco,  was  about  to  retire,  applied  for  the 
post.  It  was  the  one  thing  that  he  had  stayed  on  in 
the  Consular  Service  in  the  hope  of  obtaining.  He 


Ube  Sworfc  Ibanas  681 

wrote  a  letter  to  the  Foreign  Secretary,  which  was 
backed  up  by  about  fifty  of  the  best  names  in  England, 
whom  his  wife  had  canvassed  ;  and  indeed  it  seemed 
that  the  post  was  as  good  as  assured  to  him.  In  the 
third  week  in  November  Burton  started  for  Morocco 
in  order  to  spy  out  the  promised  land,  or  rather  the 
land  which  he  hoped  would  have  been  his.  Isabel 
was  left  behind  to  bring  out  some  volumes  of  The 
Arabian  Nights.  She  brought  them  out  up  to  the 
seventh  volume,  and  then  made  ready  to  join  her 
husband  at  Gibraltar  on  his  way  to  Tangiers  in  January. 
She  says  a  propos  of  her  labours  in  this  respect :  "I 
was  dreadfully  spied  upon  by  those  who  wished  to  get 
Richard  into  trouble  about  it,  and  once  an  unaccount- 
able person  came  and  took  rooms  in  some  lodgings 
which  I  took  after  Richard  left,  and  I  settled  with  the 
landlord  that  I  should  leave  or  that  person  should  not 
have  the  rooms,  and  of  course  he  did  not  have  any 
hesitation  between  the  two,  and  I  took  the  whole  of  the 
rooms  during  my  stay." 

In  January,  1886,  just  as  she  was  leaving  London, 
she  received  a  telegram  from  her  husband  saying  that 
there  was  cholera  at  Gibraltar,  and  she  could  get  no 
quarantine  there,  and  would  not  be  allowed  to  land. 
But  she  was  not  a  woman  to  be  stopped ;  so  she  at  once 
telegraphed  to  Sir  John  Ayde,  who  was  then  command- 
ing Gibraltar,  and  asked  if  he  would  allow  a  Govern- 
ment boat  to  take  her  off  the  P.  &  O.  and  put  her 
straight  on  the  Morocco  boat.  He  telegraphed  back, 
"  Yes,"  whereat  she  rejoiced  greatly,  as  she  wanted  espe- 
cially to  reach  her  husband  in  time  for  them  to  celebrate 


682       ftbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  ^Button 

their  Silver  Wedding  together.  When  she  arrived  at 
Gibraltar,  Burton,  who  was  staying  there,  came  off  in  a 
boat  to  meet  her,  and  they  called  together  on  Sir  John 
Ayde  to  thank  him  for  his  kindness.  A  few  days  later 
the  news  came  to  them  that  the  Government  had  at  last 
recognized  Burton's  public  services.  It  came  in  the  form 
of  a  telegram  addressed  to  "  Sir  Richard  Burton."  Isabel 
says :  "  He  tossed  it  over  to  me,  and  said,  c  Some  fellow 
is  playing  me  a  practical  joke,  or  else  it  is  not  for  me. 
I  shall  not  open  it,  so  you  may  as  well  ring  the  bell  and 
give  it  back  again.' '  His  wife  said,  "  Oh  no  ;  I  shall 
open  it  if  you  don't."  So  it  was  opened.  It  was  from 
Lord  Salisbury,  conveying  in  the  kindest  terms  that  the 
Queen,  at  his  recommendation,  had  made  him  K.C.M.G. 
in  reward  for  his  services.  He  looked  very  serious 
and  quite  uncomfortable,  and  said,  "  Oh,  I  shall  not 
accept  it."  She  said,  "  You  had  better  accept  it,  Jemmy, 
because  it  is  a  certain  sign  that  they  are  going  to  give 
you  the  place — Tangiers,  Morocco." 

There  is  only  one  thing  to  be  said  about  this 
honour — it  came  too  late.  Too  late  for  him,  because 
he  had  never  at  any  time  cared  much  for  these  things. 
"  Honour,  not  honours  "  was  his  motto ;  and  now  the 
recognition  of  his  services,  which  might  have  been  a 
great  encouragement  ten  or  fifteen  years  earlier,  and  have 
spurred  him  on  to  fresh  efforts,  found  him  broken  by 
sickness,  and  with  life's  zest  to  a  great  extent  gone. 
Too  late  for  her,  because  her  only  pleasure  in  these 
things  was  that  they  reflected  credit  upon  her  husband  ; 
and  if  he  did  not  appreciate  them,  she  did  not  care. 
Yet  of  course  she  was  glad  that  at  last  there  had  come 


Ube  Sworfc  Danos  683 

borne  return  for  her  unceasing  efforts,  and  some  admis- 
sion, though  tardy,  of  the  services  which  her  husband 
had  rendered.  It  was  a  sign  too  that  the  prejudice 
against  him  in  certain  quarters  was  at  last  lived  down. 
She  wrote  to  a  friend  *: 

"  You  will  have  seen  from  the  papers,  and  I  know 
what  pleasure  it  will  give  you,  that  the  Conservatives  on 
going  out  made  Dick  Sir  Richard  Burton,  K.C.M.G. 
.  .  .  The  Queen's  recognition  of  Dick's  forty-four 
years  of  service  was  sweetly  done  at  last,  sent  for  our 
Silver  Wedding,  and  she  told  a  friend  of  mine  that  she 
was  pleased  to  confer  something  that  would  include 
both  husband  and  wife." 

The  Burtons  crossed  over  to  Morocco  from  Gibraltar 
in  a  flat-bottomed  cattle-tug,  only  fit  for  a  river ;  and 
as  the  sea  was  exceedingly  heavy,  and  the  machinery 
had  stopped,  the  sailors  said  for  want  of  oil,  the  seas 
washed  right  over  the  boat,  and  the  passage  was  pro- 
longed from  two  hours  to  five.  They  made  many 
excursions  round  about  Tangiers;  but  on  the  whole 
they  were  disappointed  with  Morocco.  They  disliked 
Tangiers  itself,  and  the  Consulate  seemed  to  them  a 
miserable  little  house  after  their  palazzo  at  Trieste. 
Lady  Burton  had  expected  to  find  Tangiers  a  second 
Damascus;  but  in  this  she  was  sorely  disappointed. 
She  wrote  to  a  friend  from  there,  "  Trieste  will  seem 
like  Paris  after  it.  It  has  none  of  the  romance  or 
barbaric  splendour  of  Damascus.  Nevertheless,"  she 
says,  "  I  would  willingly  have  lived  there,  and  put  out 
all  my  best  capabilities,  if  my  husband  could  have  got 

1  Letter  to  Miss  Bishop  from  Tangiers,  Morocco,  February  16,  1886. 


684       tTbe  TRomance  of  Ssabel  Xaos  Burton 

the  place  he  wanted,  and  for  which  I  had  employed 
every  bit  of  interest  on  his  side  and  mine  to  obtain." 
They  received  a  great  deal  of  hospitality  in  Tangiers,  and 
inspected  the  place  and  the  natives  thoroughly.  Most 
of  the  people  looked  forward  to  welcoming  them. 

On  their  departure  they  went  to  Genoa,  which 
they  reached  after  a  rough  voyage,  and  thence  they 
proceeded  by  easy  stages  to  Trieste.  Lady  Burton 
arrived  home  alone  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening  ;  and 
as  she  was  accustomed  to  be  met  by  a  crowd  of  friends 
on  her  return,  she  was  surprised  to  find  no  one  to  meet 
her.  When  she  got  to  the  house,  their  absence  was 
explained.  Three  telegrams  were  handed  to  her.  The 
first  was,  "  Father  very  ill  ;  can  you  come  ?  "  the 
second  was,  "  Father  died  to-day  "  ;  the  third,  "  Father 
buried  to-day  at  Mortlake."  As  her  friends  were 
unaware  of  her  address  the  telegrams  had  not  been 
forwarded,  and  they  had  kept  away,  so  as  not  to 
intrude  on  her  grief.  The  blow  was  not  altogether 
unexpected,  for  Mr.  Arundell  had  been  ill  for  some 
time  ;  but  it  was  none  the  less  severe,  for  she  had 
always  been  devotedly  attached  to  her  father,  and  his 
house  had  been  made  a  rallying-point  for  them  when 
they  were  wont  to  return  home. 

They  remained  at  Trieste  three  months,  during  which 
time  the  English  colony  presented  them  with  a  silver 
cup  and  congratulations  on  their  hardly  earned  honours. 
Then,  as  Burton  had  to  consult  a  particular  manuscript 
which  would  supply  two  volumes  of  his  "  Supplemental  " 
Arabian  Nights,  they  left  again  for  England.  On  their 
return  to  London  they  took  up  their  work  where  they 


Swort>  Ibangs  685 

had  left;  it  a  few  months  before.  In  July  they  had  the 
mortification  of  finding  that  Lord  Rosebery  had  given 
away  the  coveted  post  of  Morocco,  which  had  been  as 
good  as  promised  to  them  by  Lord  Salisbury,  to  some 
one  else.  It  was  during  their  few  months'  absence  from 
England  that  the  change  of  Government  had  taken 
place,  and  Lord  Salisbury's  brief-lived  Administration 
of  1886  had  yielded  place  to  a  Liberal  Government. 
Such  are  the  vicissitudes  of  official  life.  Had  Lord 
Salisbury  been  in  office,  Sir  Richard  would  probably 
have  got  Morocco.  It  was  perhaps  all  for  the  best 
that  he  did  not  get  the  post,  although  it  was  a  sore 
disappointment  to  them  at  the  time.  Even  Lady 
Burton  came  to  take  this  view.  She  writes  :  "  I  some- 
times now  think  that  it  was  better  so,  and  that  he 
would  not  have  lived  so  long  had  he  had  it,  for  he  was 
decidedly  breaking  up.  The  climate  did  not  appear 
to  be  the  one  that  suited  him,  and  the  anxiety  and 
responsibilities  of  the  post  might  have  hurried  on  the 
catastrophe.  ...  It  was  for  the  honour  of  the  thing, 
and  we  saw  for  ourselves  how  uneasy  a  crown  it 
would  be." 

Perhaps  there  was  another  reason  too,  for  when 
Lady  Burton  remonstrated  a  Minister  wrote  to  her  in 
friendly  chaff :  "  We  don't  want  to  annex  Morocco, 
and  we  know  that  you  two  would  be  Emperor  and 
Empress  in  about  six  months."  This  was  an  evident 
allusion  to  the  part  which  they  had  played  during  their 
brief  reign  at  Damascus.  At  Trieste  there  was  no  room 
for  the  eagles  to  soar  ;  their  wings  were  clipped. 

Seeing  that  the  last  hope  was  over,  and  the  one  post 


686       ftbe  TRomancc  of  Ssabel  Xaog  Burton 

which  Sir  Richard  Burton  had  coveted  as  the  crown  of  his 
career  was  denied  to  him,  his  wife  set  to  work  to  induce 
the  Government  to  allow  him  to  retire  on  his  pension 
four  years  before  his  time.  She  had  good  grounds  for 
making  this  request,  for  his  health  was  breaking,  and 
this  last  disappointment  about  Morocco  seemed  to  have 
broken  him  even  more.  When  he  told  her  that  it  was 
given  to  another  man,  he  said,  "  There  is  no  room  for 
me  now,  and  I  do  not  want  anything  ;  but  I  have 
worked  forty-four  years  for  nothing.  I  am  breaking 
up,  and  I  want  to  go  free."  So  she  at  once  set  to 
work  to  draw  up  what  she  called  "  The  Last  Appeal," 
enumerating  the  services  which  her  husband  had 
rendered  to  his  country,  and  canvassing  her  friends 
to  obtain  the  pension.  The  petition  was  backed  as 
usual  by  forty-seven  or  fifty  big  names,  who  actively 
exerted  themselves  in  the  matter.  It  was  refused, 
notwithstanding  that  public  feeling  and  the  press  seemed 
unanimously  in  favour  of  its  being  granted.  The 
ground  on  which  it  was  refused,  apparently,  was  that 
it  was  contrary- to  precedent,  and  that  it  was  not  usual  ; 
but  then  the  case  was  altogether  an  unusual  one,  and 
Sir  Richard  Burton  was  altogether  an  unusual  man. 
Even  supposing  that  there  had  been  a  difficulty  about 
giving  him  the  full  Consular  pension,  it  would  have 
been  easy  for  the  Government,  if  they  had  been  so 
minded,  to  have  made  up  to  him  the  sum — only  a  few 
hundred  pounds  a  year — from  the  Civil  List,  on  the 
ground  of  his  literary  and  linguistic  labours  and  services. 
It  should  be  added  that  this  petition  was  refused  both 
by  Liberal  and  Conservative  Governments,  for  Lord 


LADY    BURTON    IN     1887.  [Page  686. 


Swort)  t>an0s  687 

Salisbury's  second  Administration  came  into  office  before 
the  Burtons  left  England.  But  there  was  this  difference : 
whereas  Lord  Rosebery  reprimanded  Burton  for  his 
frequent  absence  from  his  post,  Lord  Salisbury  was 
very  indulgent  in  the  matter  of  leave.  He  recognized 
that  Burton's  was  an  exceptional  case,  and  gave  him 
exceptional  privileges. 

They  remained  in  London  until  the  end  of  the  year, 
and  on  January  4,  1887,  they  left  England  for  Cannes, 
where  they  spent  a  few  pleasant  weeks,  rejoicing  in  the 
sun  and  blue  sea  and  sky.  They  enjoyed  a  good  deal  of 
society  at  Cannes,  where  they  met  the  Prince  of  Wales 
and  many  friends.  On  Ash  Wednesday  occurred  the 
earthquake  which  made  such  a  commotion  on  the 
Riviera  at  that  time,  and  of  which  Sir  Richard  Burton 
gave  the  following  account: 

"  A  little  before  6  a.m.,  on  the  finest  of  mornings, 
with  the  smoothest  of  seas,  the  still  sleeping  world  was 
aroused  by  a  rumbling  and  shaking  as  of  a  thousand 
express  trains  hissing  and  rolling  along,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  followed  a  shock,  making  the  hotel  reel  and 
wave.  The  duration  was  about  one  minute.  My  wife 
said  to  me,  J  Why,  what  sort  of  express  train  have  they 
got  on  to-day  ?  '  It  broke  on  to  us,  upheaving  and 
making  the  earth  undulate,  and  as  it  came  I  said,  *  By 
Jove  !  that  is  a  good  earthquake.'  She  called  out,  f  All 
the  people  are  rushing  out  into  the  garden  undressed ; 
shall  we  go  too  ?  '  I  said,  *  No,  my  girl ;  you  and  I 
have  been  in  too  many  earthquakes  to  show  the  white 
feather  at  our  age.'  *  All  right,'  she  answered  ;  and  I 
turned  round  and  went  to  sleep  again." 


688       Ube  "Romance  ot  Isabel  Xafcp  Burton 

The  result  of  the  earthquake  was  a  great  and  sudden 
exodus  from  Cannes,  and  indeed  from  all  the  Riviera. 
Visitors  fled  in  panic,  but  Sir  Richard  and  Lady 
Burton  went  about  their  usual  business,  and  were 
amused  at  seeing  the  terrified  people  rush  off  to  the 
railway-station,  and  the  queer  garments  in  which  they 
were  clad.  Shortly  after  Lady  Burton  was  terribly 
frightened  from  another  cause.  Her  husband  had 
an  epileptic  fit,  and  it  was  some  time  before  she  and 
the  doctors  could  bring  him  round  again.  Henceforth 
it  became  necessary  for  them  to  have  always  with  them 
a  resident  doctor.  They  both  of  them  disliked  the  idea 
of  having  a  stranger  spying  about  them  very  much  ;  but 
it  was  inevitable,  for  the  epilepsy  was  a  new  develop- 
ment, and  as  Burton  says,  "  My  wife  felt,  though  she 
had  successfully  nursed  me  through  seven  long  illnesses 
since  our  marriage,  that  this  was  a  case  beyond  her 
ken."  So  Dr.  Ralph  Leslie  was  telegraphed  for,  and 
came  out  from  England  to  Cannes,  where  he  joined 
them.  Then  commenced  what  they  called  their  Via 
Cruets  to  Trieste.  Lady  Burton  thus  describes  her 
troubles  at  that  time  : 

"  On  February  23  we  were  shaken  to  a  jelly  by  the 
earthquakes — three  strong  shocks  and  three  weeks  of 
palpitating  earth  in  the  Riviera.  On  February  26 
my  poor  darling  Dick  had  an  epileptic  fit,  or,  more 
properly  speaking,  an  epileptiform  convulsion,  which 
lasted  about  half  an  hour,  and  endangered  his  life.  I 
had  six  doctors  and  two  nurses,  and  we  watched  and 
tended  him  for  fifteen  days  ;  and  I  telegraphed  for  an 
English  doctor  to  England  by  express,  who  came,  and 


SworD  t>an0s  689 

lives  and  travels  with  us,  as  Richard  insisted  on  coming 
to  Trieste,  not  to  England,  and  will  return  with  us.  It 
took  us,  after  his  arrival,  twenty-eight  days  to  accom- 
plish the  twenty-eight  hours  of  express  between  Cannes 
and  Trieste  in  toil,  anguish,  and  anxiety.  We  arrived 
April  5  at  home  in  rest  and  comfort.  He  has  been 
making  daily  progress  to  health.  He  is  now  out  walk- 
ing with  his  doctor.  We  had  a  consultation  a  few  days 
ago.  He  will  always  require  great  car?,  and  watching 
all  his  life — diet  and  internal  health  ;  must  not  climb, 
as  his  heart  is  weak,  nor  take  Turkish  baths,  nor  over- 
work ;  and  he  may  so  live  fifteen  years,  but  he  may  die 
any  moment  of  heart  disease.  And  I  need  not  say 
that  I  shall  never  have  a  really  happy,  peaceful  moment 
again.  In  the  midst  of  this  my  uncle,1  who  was  like 
my  father  to  me,  was  found  dead  in  his  bed.  Then 
I  have  had  a  bad  lip  and  money  losses,  and  altogether 
a  bad  time  of  it."2 

At  Trieste  Burton  led  the  life  of  a  confirmed  invalid, 
and  his  wife  attended  him  with  unfailing  devotion, 
which  was  in  no  way  abated  by  the  presence  of  the 
resident  doctor — <(  a  disagreeable  luxury,"  as  she  called 
him.  They  used  to  sit  a  good  deal  under  their 
favourite  linden  tree  in  the  garden  and  receive  visitors. 
Burton's  love  for  his  wife,  always  deep,  though  never 
demonstrative,  seems  to  have  shown  itself  more  at  this 
time  ;  and  in  the  few  remaining  years  he  came  to  lean 
on  her  more  and  more,  making  her  his  confidante  in  all 
things.  In  June  they  celebrated  the  Jubilee  of  Queen 

1  The  late  Lord  Gerard. 

'  Letter  to  Miss  Bird  from  Trieste,  April  10,  1887. 

44 


690       Ube  TRomance  of  Ssabel  Xafcg  JSurton 

Victoria,  and,  owing  to  her  husband's  illness,  nearly  all 
the  arrangements  fell  upon  Lady  Burton.  It  was  she 
who  drew  up  the  address  which  was  sent  to  Her  Majesty, 
and  she  also  prepared  the  speech  to  deliver  in  case  her 
husband  was  too  unwell  to  attend  the  public  dinner  in 
celebration  of  the  event.  As  Lady  Burton  has  been 
accused  of  being  such  a  bigoted  Roman  Catholic,  it  is 
only  fair  to  mention  that  on  this  auspicious  occasion 
she  accompanied  her  husband  to  the  official  service 
in  the  Anglican  Church.  Her  loyalty  to  her  Queen 
was  unswerving.  She  was  not  required  to  make  the 
speech,  as  Burton  was  well  enough  to  be  carried  down 
to  the  dinner,  where  he  delivered  the  oration.  It  was 
the  only  occasion  on  which  he  ever  wore  his  Order  of 
St.  Michael  and  St.  George.  The  effort  was  so  great 
that  he  had  to  be  carried  upstairs  again  the  moment  his 
speech  was  over. 

The  rest  of  1887  was  chiefly  taken  up  by  a  dreary 
record  of  failing  health.  The  Burtons  went  away  for  a 
summer  holiday  as  usual,  and  during  their  absence  from 
Trieste  many  English  Royalties  arrived  there  with  the 
squadron ;  but  they  were  unable  to  receive  them.  On 
their  return  Dr.  Leslie  had  to  leave  them,  and  his  place 
was  supplied  by  another  doctor.  It  became  more  than 
ever  necessary  that  a  medical  man  should  be  in  attend- 
ance, for  Lady  Burton  seemed  to  suffer  in  sympathy 
with  her  husband,  and  as  he  got  worse  she  became 
worse  too.  She  writes  about  this  time  :  "  I  am  unable 
to  take  anything  which  might  be  called  a  walk.  Driving 
was  sometimes  very  painful  to  him,  and  it  would  not 
have  been  safe  to  let  him  go  alone."  It  was  one  of 


tlbe  Sworfc  1>angs  691 

her  sorest  trials  that  she  could  not  minister  to  her 
husband  as  formerly;  but  disease  had  laid  its  hand 
on  her  too.  Their  life  at  Trieste  at  this  time  was 
naturally  uneventful.  Instead  of  getting  up,  as  they 
used  to  do,  and  beginning  their  labours  in  the  small 
hours  of  the  morning,  the  Burtons  now  rose  at  seven, 
and  did  as  much  literary  work  as  they  could  until 
nine,  when  the  doctor  would  come  in.  At  twelve 
o'clock  they  had  breakfast,  and  after  that  the  time 
was  devoted  either  to  more  literary  work  or  recreation. 
At  four  they  would  receive  any  friends  who  came  to 
see  them.  At  half-past  seven  they  dined,  no  longer  at 
the  hotel  as  formerly,  but  at  home  ;  and  at  nine  o'clock 
they  retired  to  rest.  It  was  about  this  time  that  Sir 
Richard  finished  the  last  volume  of  his  "Supplemental" 
Arabian  Nights.  The  weather  was  so  bad  at  Trieste, 
and  his  health  so  uncertain,  that  the  Foreign  Office 
again  gave  him  leave. 

He  and  his  wife  came  by  a  roundabout  route  to 
England,  and  saw  many  old  friends.  On  October  15 
they  went  down  to  Folkestone,  where  they  stayed  a  few 
days  with  his  relatives.  They  crossed  on  October  26 
to  Boulogne.  It  was  Sir  Richard's  last  visit  to  England  ; 
he  never  saw  his  country  again. 

At  Boulogne  they  visited  once  more  the  old  haunts 
where  they  had  met  for  the  first  time  years  ago,  and 
renewed  acquaintance  with  the  scenes  of  their  vanished 
youth.  It  is  worthy  of  notice  how  often  husband  and 
wife  went  to  Boulogne  together  during  their  married  life. 
It  seemed  as  though  the  place  was  endeared  to  them  by 
the  recollection  that  it  was  here  that  they  had  first  come 


692       TTbe  IRomance  of  Ssabel  Xaos  Burton 

together.  From  Boulogne  they  went  to  Switzerland, 
where  they  passed  Christmas.  When  they  were  at 
Montreux  they  celebrated  their  wedding  day  (January 
22),  and  the  people  in  the  hotel  overwhelmed  them 
with  presents  and  flowers  and  pretty  speeches.  Lady 
Burton  says,  "  I  got  quite  choky,  and  Richard  ran  away 
and  locked  himself  up."  A  rather  ludicrous  incident 
occurred  here.  They  were  expecting  a  visit  from  the 
famous  Elisee  Reclus.  Lady  Burton  prepared  herself 
to  receive  him  with  honour,  and  she  had  beforehand  been 
warned  of  his  little  peculiarities.  Suddenly  the  door 
was  thrown  open,  and  some  one  was  announced  whose 
name  she  did  not  catch.  She  greeted  the  new-comer 
with  effusion,  saying,  "  Dear  Monsieur  Reclus,  I  am  so 
delighted  to  make  your  acquaintance ;  such  a  pleasure 
to  know  such  a  distinguished  man."  Her  greeting 
was  acknowledged  with  equal  effusion  by  her  visitor 
who  then  proceeded  to  pull  a  key  out  of  his  pocket, 
and  went  up  to  the  clock.  Lady  Burton  was  some 
what  surprised,  but  she  put  it  down  to  a  great  man's 
peculiarity  ;  so  she  went  on  talking  to  him,  and  ex- 
plaining the  pleasure  which  it  would  give  Sir  Richard 
to  make  his  acquaintance,  when  the  door  was  opened 
again,  and  the  servant  announced,  "  Monsieur  Reclus." 
The  man  she  had  been  talking  to  was  the  clock- 
winder. 

From  Montreux  they  toured  about  Switzerland  for 
some  few  weeks,  and  in  March  they  returned  again 
to  Trieste,  where  they  remained  off  and  on  until 
November. 

During   the   summer   Burton's   health,    fortified   by 


SworO  1ban0s  693 

continual  change  of  air  and  scene,  improved  a  good 
deal.  The  Foreign  Office  was  most  indulgent  in 
the  amount  of  liberty  which  it  gave  to  him.  Lord 
Salisbury  was  now  at  the  head  of  affairs  ;  and  though 
the  Government  did  not  see  their  way  to  allowing 
Burton  to  retire  on  full  pension,  they  granted  him 
what  was  almost  the  same  thing — frequent  and  ex- 
tended leaves  ;  and  it  must  be  remembered  too  the 
time  of  his  Consular  service  was  now  fast  drawing 
to  a  close.  Lady  Burton  always  said  that,  next  to 
Lord  Derby,  Lord  and  Lady  Salisbury  were  their 
best  friends.  About  this  time  Lady  Salisbury  wrote 
to  her  : 

"  HATFIELD  HOUSE,  HATFIELD,  HERTS,  July  21,  1889. 

"MY  DEAR  LADY  BURTON, 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  so  good  an  account  of  you 
and  Sir  Richard.  We  are  here  as  busy  as  usual  at  this 
time  of  year.  We  have  had  great  doings  for  the  Shah, 
who  is  still  in  this  country.  He  dined  and  slept  here 
one  night  about  a  fortnight  ago,  and  we  had  a  garden- 
party  for  him  next  day.  He  behaved  very  well,  and 
gives  me  the  idea  of  being  an  able  man  ;  though 
whether  he  will  think  England  a  stronger  friend  than 
Russia  remains  to  be  seen.  I  sometimes  fear  he  will 
carry  away  a  greater  idea  of  our  riches  and  luxury  than 
of  our  strength,  but  qui  vivra,  verra. 

"  We  are  now  up  to  our  lips  in  a  royal  marriage. 
It  is  to  take  place  next  Saturday,  and  will  I  dare  say 
be  a  very  pretty  sight.  The  young  lady *  is  very  happy 

1  The  Duchess  of  Fife. 


694      tTbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  3Laos  Burton 

by  all  accounts,  and  looks  quite  radiant.  Politics  are 
pretty  quiet,  and  there  are  as  few  mistakes  made  as 
you  can  expect  in  the  fourth  year  of  a  Government. 
I  think  we  are  rather  losing  in  London,  but  are  gain- 
ing in  other  places.  On  the  whole  all  things  are  very 
quiet.  With  kind  regards  to  Sir  Richard, 
**  Believe  me, 

"  Yours  very  sincerely, 

"G.  SALISBURY." 

In  November  the  Burtons  started,  via  Brindisi,  for 
Malta,  where  they  passed  a  pleasant  month,  met  many 
friends,  and  enjoyed  themselves  very  much.  From 
Malta  they  went  to  Tunis,  and  renewed  their  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Bedawin  and  the  Arab  tents.  It 
was  their  last  glimpse  of  the  desert  life  which  they 
loved  so  well.  Among  other  places  they  visited  the 
ruins  of  Carthage,  and  made  as  many  excursions  into 
the  interior  as  it  was  possible,  considering  the  state 
of  Sir  Richard's  health.  From  Tunis  they  went  by 
train  to  Algiers,  starting  on  the  journey  at  5.15 
on  a  cold  January  morning.  When  they  reached 
Algiers,  they  were  delighted  with  it  at  first ;  but 
they  soon  tired.  Even  an  expedition  to  the  baths  of 
Hammam  R'irha  did  not  reconcile  them  to  the  place, 
and  they  left  it  early  in  March,  going  by  boat  to 
Marseilles,  and  then  travelling  homewards  by  way  of 
the  Riviera  to  Genoa,  and  thence  to  Venice.  They 
crossed  to  Trieste  the  following  day,  having  been  absent 
more  than  four  months. 

They  remained  at  Trieste  until  July   I,  when  they 


Ube  Sworfc  ifoanas  695 

started  for  their  last  summer  trip.  The  heat  in  Trieste 
during  July  and  August  is  almost  insupportable.  They 
went  to  Innsbruck,  Zurich,  Davos  Platz,  Regatz,  and 
other  places.  They  were  counting  the  months  to  the 
day  when  Burton  would  complete  his  term  in  the 
Consular  Service,  and  would  be  permitted  to  retire 
on  his  pension.  From  Zurich  Lady  Burton  wrote 
to  a  friend  *  : 

"We  go  back  (D.V.)  September  I  or  thereabouts, 
stay  three  months,  and  then  winter  in  Greece  and 
Constantinople.  In  March  Dick's  service  is  ended, 
and  between  that  and  August  we  pack  up,  settle  our 
affairs,  and  come  home  for  good.  In  one  sense  I  am 
glad,  because  he  yearns  for  a  little  flat  in  London ;  we 
shall  be  in  the  land  of  good  advice  and  nourishment ; 
and,  God  willing,  I  shall  have  brought  him  home  safe 
and  sound  after  thirty  years'  perils  and  dangers  by 
health  and  land  and  sea.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  a 
wrench  to  give  up  my  nice  home.  I  have  the  whole 
of  the  second  and  top  floor  now,  and  I  have  made  it 
so  pretty,  and  I  love  Trieste  and  the  life  of  my  friends. 
I  don't  know  how  I  shall  concentrate  myself  and  my 
belongings  into  a  vulgar  little  flat — on  small  means. 
If  you  see  any  flat  likely  to  suit  us,  let  me  know."  . 

It  was  during  this  time  in  Switzerland  that  Burton 
made  his  wife  his  literary  executrix.  He  called  her 
into  his  room  one  day,  and  dictated  to  her  a  list  of 
private  papers  which  he  wished  to  be  burned  in  the 
event  of  his  death,  and  gave  her  three  signed  documents, 
one  of  which  ran  as  follows  : 

1  Letter  to  Miss  Bishop,  July  21,  1890. 


696      trbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  %ao£  Burton 


"  In  the  event  of  my  death,  I  bequeath  especially  to 
my  wife,  Isabel  Burton,  every  book,  paper,  or  manu- 
script, to  be  overhauled  and  examined  by  her  only, 
and  to  be  dealt  with  entirely  at  her  own  discretion, 
and  in  the  manner  she  thinks  best,  having  been  my 
sole  helper  for  thirty  years. 

(Signed)  "  RICHARD  F.  BURTON." 

On  September  7  they  returned  to  Trieste  together 
for  the  last  time.  They  were  both  very  much  better 
for  the  good  air  in  Switzerland,  and  settled  down  again 
to  their  quiet  literary  life,  full  of  occupations  for 
the  present  and  plans  for  the  future.  Lady  Burton 
was  especially  busy  during  these  six  weeks  in  helping 
her  husband  to  sort  and  arrange  his  manuscripts  and 
papers,  and  he  worked  as  usual  at  three  or  four  books 
at  a  time,  especially  his  Scented  Garden,  which  was  now 
nearing  completion. 

I  should  like  to  interpolate  here  a  beautiful  and 
characteristic  letter  Lady  Burton  wrote,  on  October  10, 
to  a  friend,  Madame  de  Gutmansthal-Benvenuti,  who 
had  just  lost  her  husband  : 

"  You  need  no  letter  from  me  to  tell  you  how  my 
heart  is  grieving  for  you,  and  with  you,  in  this  greatest 
trial  woman  can  ever  know  —  the  trial  before  which  my 
own  head  is  ever  bowed  down,  and  my  heart  shrinking 
from  in  terror.  And  it  has  fallen  on  you,  my  best  and 
dearest  friend.  But  you  have  such  consolations.  He 
was  a  religious  man,  and  died  with  the  Sacraments,  and 
you  are  sure  of  a  happy  meeting,  just  as  if  he  had  gone 
on  a  journey  to  wait  for  you  ;  but  more  surely  to  meet 


Sworfc  1>anas  697 

than  if  he  hid  gone  on  an  earthly  journey.  You  have 
your  dear  children  to  live  for,  and  that  must  now  be 
your  only  thought,  and  taking  care  of  your  health  for 
that  purpose.  All  of  us,  who  love  you,  are  thinking 
of  you  and  praying  for  you." 

Ten  days  later  the  trial  she  so  much  dreaded  had 
come  upon  her.  And  here  for  a  space  Lady  Burton 
will  speak  in  her  own  words. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

THE    SWORD    FALLS 

1890 

Life  is  a  sheet  of  paper  white, 
Whereon  each  one  of  us  may  write 
His  word  or  two,  and  then  comes  night. 

LOWELL. 

<c  T     ET  me  recall  the  last  happy  day  of  my  life.     It 

J 4     was  Sunday,  October  19,   1890.     I  went  out 

to  Communion  and  Mass  at  eight  o'clock,  came  back, 
and  kissed  my  husband  at  his  writing.  He  was  engaged 
on  the  last  page  of  'The  Scented  Garden,  which  had 
occupied  him  seriously  only  six  actual  months,  not 
thirty  years,  as  the  press  said.  He  said  to  me,  *  To- 
morrow I  shall  have  finished  this,  and  I  promise  you 
that  I  will  never  write  another  book  on  this  subject. 
I  will  take  to  our  biography.'  And  I  said,  f  What 
a  happiness  that  will  be ! '  He  took  his  usual  walk  of 
nearly  two  hours  in  the  morning,  breakfasting  well. 

"  That  afternoon  we  sat  together  writing  an  immense 
number  of  letters,  which,  when  we  had  finished,  I  put 
on  the  hall  table  to  be  posted  on  Monday  morning. 
Each  letter  breathed  of  life  and  hope  and  happiness  ; 
for  we  were  making  our  preparations  for  a  delightful 

698 


TTbe  Swort>  jfalls  699 

voyage  to  Greece  and  Constantinople,  which  was  to  last 
from  November  15  to  March  15.  We  were  to  return 
to  Trieste  from  March  15  till  July  I.  He  would  be 
a  free  man  on  March  19,  and  those  three  months  and 
a  half  we  were  to  pack  up,  make  our  preparations,  wind 
up  all  our  affairs,  send  our  heavy  baggage  to  England, 
and,  bidding  adieu  to  Trieste,  we  were  to  pass  July  and 
August  in  Switzerland,  arrive  in  England  in  September, 
1891,  look  for  a  little  flat  and  a  little  cottage,  unpack, 
and  settle  ourselves  to  live  in  England. 

"The  only  difference  remarkable  on  this  particular 
Sunday,  October  19,  was,  that  whereas  my  husband  was 
dreadfully  punctual,  and  with  military  precision  as  the 
clock  struck  we  had  to  be  in  our  places  at  the  table  at 
half-past  seven,  he  seemed  to  dawdle  about  the  room 
putting  things  away.  He  said  to  me,  *  You  had  better 
go  in  to  table ' ;  and  I  answered,  *  No,  darling,  I  will 
wait  for  you '  ;  and  we  went  in  together.  He  dined 
well,  but  sparingly  ;  he  laughed,  talked,  and  joked. 
We  discussed  our  future  plans  and  preparations,  and 
he  desired  me  on  the  morrow  to  write  to  Sir  Edmund 
Monson,  and  several  other  letters,  to  forward  the 
preparations.  We  talked  of  our  future  life  in  London, 
and  so  on.  About  half-past  nine  he  got  up  and  went 
to  his  bedroom,  accompanied  by  the  doctor  and  myself, 
and  we  assisted  him  at  his  toilet  I  then  said  the 
night  prayers  to  him,  and  whilst  I  was  saying  them 
a  dog  began  that  dreadful  howl  which  the  superstitious 
say  denotes  a  death.  It  disturbed  me  so  dreadfully 
that  I  got  up  from  the  prayers,  went  out  of  the  room, 
and  called  the  porter  to  go  out  and  see  what  was  the 


700      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JBurton 

matter  with  the  dog.  I  then  returned,  and  finished  the 
prayers,  after  which  he  asked  me  for  a  novel.  I  gave 
him  Robert  Buchanan's  Martyrdom  of  Madeleine.  I 
kissed  him  and  got  into  bed,  and  he  was  reading 
in  bed. 

"  At  twelve  o'clock,  midnight,  he  began  to  grow 
uneasy.  I  asked  him  what  ailed  him,  and  he  said,  *  I 
have  a  gouty  pain  in  my  foot.  When  did  I  have  my 
last  attack  ? '  I  referred  to  our  journals,  and  found 
it  was  three  months  previously  that  he  had  had  a  real 
gout,  and  I  said,  *  You  know  that  the  doctor  considers 
it  a  safety-valve  that  you  should  have  a  healthy  gout 
in  your  feet  every  three  months  for  your  head  and  your 
general  health.  Your  last  attack  was  three  months  ago 
at  Zurich,  and  your  next  will  be  due  next  January.' 
He  was  then  quite  content;  and  though  he  moaned 
and  was  restless,  he  tried  to  sleep,  and  I  sat  by  him 
magnetizing  the  foot  locally,  as  I  had  the  habit  of  doing, 
to  soothe  the  pain,  and  it  gave  him  so  much  relief  that 
he  dozed  a  little,  and  said,  *  I  dreamt  I  saw  our  little 
flat  in  London,  and  it  had  quite  a  nice  large  room  in 
it.'  Between  whiles  he  laughed  and  talked  and  spoke 
of  our  future  plans,  and  even  joked. 

"  At  four  o'clock  he  got  more  uneasy,  and  I  said  I 
should  go  for  the  doctor.  He  said,  *  Oh  no,  don't 
disturb  him  ;  he  cannot  do  anything.'  And  I  answered, 
*  What  is  the  use  of  keeping  a  doctor  if  he  is  not  to  be 
called  when  you  are  suffering  ? '  The  doctor  was  there 
in  a  few  moments,  felt  his  heart  and  pulse,  found  him 
in  perfect  order — that  the  gout  was  healthy.  He  gave 
him  some  medicine,  and  went  back  to  bed.  About  half- 


Swort)  jfalls  7°* 

past  four  he  complained  that  there  was  no  air.  I  flew 
back  for  the  doctor,  who  came  and  found  him  in  danger. 
I  went  at  once,  called  up  all  the  servants,  sent  in  five 
directions  for  a  priest,  according  to  the  directions  I  had 
received,  hoping  to  get  one  ;  and  the  doctor,  and  I  and 
Lisa l  under  the  doctor's  orders,  tried  every  remedy  and 
restorative,  but  in  vain. 

"  What  harasses  my  memory,  what  I  cannot  bear  to 
think  of,  what  wakes  me  with  horror  every  morning 
from  four  till  seven,  when  I  get  up,  is  that  for  a  minute 
or  two  he  kept  on  crying,  '  Oh,  Puss,  chloroform — ether 
— or  I  am  a  dead  man  ! '  My  God !  I  would  have 
given  him  the  blood  out  of  my  veins,  if  it  would  have 
saved  him ;  but  I  had  to  answer,  e  My  darling,  the  doctor 
says  it  will  kill  you  ;  he  is  doing  all  he  knows.'  I  was 
holding  him  in  my  arms,  when  he  got  heavier  and 
heavier,  and  more  insensible,  and  we  laid  him  on  the 
bed.  The  doctor  said  he  was  quite  insensible,  and 
assured  me  he  did  not  suffer.  I  trust  not ;  I  believe  it 
was  a  clot  of  blood  to  the  heart. 

"  My  one  endeavour  was  to  be  useful  to  the  doctor, 
and  not  impede  his  actions  by  my  own  feelings.  The 
doctor  applied  the  electric  battery  to  the  heart,  and  kept 
it  there  till  seven  o'clock  ;  and  I  knelt  down  at  his  left 
side,  holding  his  hand  and  pulse,  and  prayed  my  heart 
out  to  God  to  keep  his  soul  there  (though  he  might  be 
dead  in  appearance)  till  the  priest  arrived.  I  should 
say  that  he  was  insensible  in  thirty  minutes  from  the 
time  he  said  there  was  no  air. 

"  It  was  a  country  Slav  priest,  lately  promoted  to  be 
1  Lady  Burton's  maid,  now  dead. 


702       Ube  TComance  ot  Isabel  %aog  Burton 

our  parish  priest,  who  came.  He  called  me  aside,  and 
told  me  that  he  could  not  give  Extreme  Unction  to 
my  husband,  because  he  had  not  declared  himself ;  but 
I  besought  him  not  to  lose  a  moment  in  giving  the 
Sacrament,  for  the  soul  was  passing  away,  and  that  I 
had  the  means  of  satisfying  him.  He  looked  at  us  all 
three,  and  asked  if  he  was  dead,  and  we  all  said  no. 
God  was  good,  for  had  he  had  to  go  back  for  the  holy 
materials  it  would  have  been  too  late,  but  he  had  them 
in  his  pocket,  and  he  immediately  administered  Extreme 
Unction — '  Si  vivis,'  or  c  Si  es  capax,'  *  If  thou  art 
alive ' — and  said  the  prayers  for  the  dying  and  the 
departing  soul.  The  doctor  still  kept  the  battery  to 
the  heart  all  the  time,  and  I  still  held  the  left  hand  with 
my  finger  on  the  pulse.  By  the  clasp  of  the  hand,  and 
a  little  trickle  of  blood  running  under  the  finger,  I 
judged  there  was  a  little  life  until  seven,  and  then  I 
knew  that  ...  I  was  alone  and  desolate  for  ever."  * 

I  have  given  the  foregoing  in  Lady  Burton's  own 
words,  as  unfortunately  a  fierce  controversy  has  raged 
round  her  husband's  death-bed,  and  therefore  it  is 
desirable  to  repeat  her  testimony  on  the  subject.  This 
testimony  was  given  to  the  world  in  1893,  when  all  the 
witnesses  of  Sir  Richard  Burton's  death  were  living,  and 
it  was  never  publicly  contradicted  or  called  into  question 
until  December  of  last  year  (1896),  eight  months  after 
Lady  Burton's  death,  when  Miss  Stisted's  book  made  its 
appearance.  In  consequence  of  the  attack  made  upon 

1  Life 'of  Sir  Richard  Burton,   by  Isabel  his  wife,   vol.   ii., 
pp.  410-414.     This  work  was  published  in  May,  1893. 


Sworfc  jfalls  703 

Lady  Burton  by  her  niece,  which  has  been  repeated  and 
echoed  elsewhere,  it  is  necessary  to  defend  Lady  Burton 
on  this  point,  since  she  is  no  longer  able  to  defend 
herself.  But  I  should  like  to  reiterate  that  the  question 
of  Sir  Richard  Burton's  religion  did  not  enter  into 
the  original  scheme  of  this  book.  I  only  approach  it 
now  with  reluctance,  and  that  not  so  much  for  the 
purpose  of  arguing  as  to  what  was  Sir  Richard  Burton's 
religion  (that  was  a  matter  for  himself  alone)  as  of 
upholding  the  good  faith  of  his  wife.  In  view  also  of 
the  peculiar  bitterness  of  the  odium  theologicum,  perhaps 
it  may  be  permitted  me  to  say  at  the  outset  that  I  have 
no  prejudice  on  this  subject.  I  am  not  a  Roman  Catholic, 
and  therefore  cannot  be  accused  of  approaching  the 
controversy  with  what  Paley  was  wont  to  call  an 
"antecedent  bias." 

In  this  I  have  the  advantage  of  Miss  Stisted,  who 
appears  to  be  animated  by  a  bitter  hostility  not  only 
against  her  aunt  but  against  the  Church  of  Rome.  In 
her  book  she  asserts  that  Sir  Richard  Burton  died 
before  the  priest  arrived  on  the  scene,  and  that  the 
Sacrament  of  Extreme  Unction  was  administered  to  a 
corpse.  She  also  goes  on  to  say  : 

The  terrible  shock  of  so  fatal  a  termination  to  what  seemed  an 
attack  of  little  consequence,  would  have  daunted  most  Romanists 
desirous  of  effecting  a  death-bed  conversion.  It  did  not  daunt 
Isabel.  No  sooner  did  she  perceive  that  her  husband's  life  was 
in  danger,  than  she  sent  messengers  in  every  direction  for  a 
priest.  Mercifully,  even  the  first  to  arrive,  a  man  of  peasant 
extraction,  who  had  just  been  appointed  to  the  parish,  came  too 
late  to  molest  one  then  far  beyond  the  reach  of  human  folly 
and  superstition.  But  Isabel  had  been  too  well  trained  by 


704      Ttbe  TRomance  ot  Isabel  Xafcg  Burton 

the  Society  of  Jesus  not  to  see  that  a  chance  yet  remained  of 
glorifying  her  Church — a  heaven-sent  chance  which  was  not  to 
be  lost.  Her  husband's  body  was  not  yet  cold,  and  who  could 
tell  for  certain  whether  some  spark  of  life  yet  lingered  in  that 
inanimate  form  ?  The  doctor  declared  that  no  doubt  existed 
regarding  the  decease,  but  doctors  are  often  mistaken.  So,  hardly 
had  the  priest  crossed  the  threshold  than  she  flung  herself  at  his 
feet,  and  implored  him  to  administer  Extreme  Unction.  The 
father,  who  seems  to  have  belonged  to  the  ordinary  type  of 
country-bred  ecclesiastic  so  common  abroad,  and  who  probably 
in  the  whole  course  of  his  life  had  never  before  availed  himself 
of  so  startling  a  method  of  enrolling  a  new  convert,  demurred. 
There  had  been  no  profession  of  faith,  he  urged ;  there  could 
be  none  now,  for — and  he  hardly  liked  to  pronounce  the  cruel 
words — Burton  was  dead.  But  Isabel  would  listen  to  no 
arguments,  would  take  no  refusal ;  she  remained  weeping  and 
wailing  on  the  floor,  until  at  last,  to  terminate  a  disagreeable 
scene,  which  most  likely  would  have  ended  in  hysterics,  he 
consented  to  perform  the  rite.  Rome  took  formal  possession  of 
Richard  Burton's  corpse,  and  pretended,  moreover,  with  insuffer- 
able insolence,  to  take  under  her  protection  his  soul.  From  that 
moment  an  inquisitive  mob  never  ceased  to  disturb  the  solemn 
chamber.  Other  priests  went  in  and  out  at  will,  children  from 
a  neighbouring  orphanage  sang  hymns  and  giggled  alternately, 
pious  old  women  recited  their  rosaries,  gloated  over  the  dead, 
and  splashed  the  bed  with  holy  water;  the  widow,  who  had 
regained  her  composure,  directing  the  innumerable  ceremonies. 
•  .  .  After  the  necessary  interval  had  elapsed,  Burton's  funeral 
took  place  in  the  largest  church  in  Trieste,  and  was  made  the 
excuse  for  an  ecclesiastical  triumph  of  a  faith  he  had  always 
loathed.1 

These  statements  of  Lady  Burton  and  Miss  Stisted 
have  been  placed  one  after  another,  in  order  that  the 
dispassionate  reader  may  be  able  to  judge  not  only  of 
their  conflicting  nature,  but  of  the  different  spirit  which 

1  Miss  Stisted' s  Life  of  Burton,  pp.  409-414. 


ttbe  Swort)  jfalls  7°s 

animates  them.  Lady  Burton  writes  from  her  heart, 
reverently,  as  a  good  woman  would  write  of  the  most 
solemn  moments  of  her  life,  and  of  things  which  were 
to  her  eternal  verities.  Would  she  be  likely  to  perjure 
herself  on  such  a  subject  ?  Miss  Stisted  writes  with  an 
unconcealed  animus,  and  is  not  so  much  concerned  in 
defending  the  purity  of  her  uncle's  Protestantism  as  in 
vilifying  her  aunt  and  the  faith  to  which  she  belonged. 
It  may  be  noted  too  that  Miss  Stisted  has  no  word  of 
womanly  sympathy  for  the  wife  who  loved  her  husband 
with  a  love  passing  the  love  of  women,  and  who  was 
bowed  down  by  her  awful  sorrow.  On  the  contrary, 
with  revolting  heartlessness  and  irreverence,  she  jeers 
at  her  aunt's  grief  and  the  last  offices  of  the  dead. 
We  may  agree  with  the  doctrines  of  the  Church 
of  Rome,  or  we  may  not  ;  the  solemn  rites  may  be 
unavailing,  or  they  may  be  otherwise ;  but  at  least  they 
can  do  no  harm,  and  the  death-chamber  should  surely 
be  sacred  from  such  vulgar  ribaldry  !  Good  taste,  if 
no  higher  consideration,  might  have  kept  her  from 
mocking  the  religious  convictions  of  others. 

Miss  Stisted's  indictment  of  Lady  Burton  on  this 
point  falls  under  three  heads  : 

First,  that  Sir  Richard  was  dead  before  the  priest 
arrived. 

Secondly,  that  he  was  never  a  Catholic  at  all,  and  so 
his  wife  acted  in  bad  faith. 

Thirdly,  that  he  "  loathed  "  the  Catholic  religion. 

It  is  better  to  deal  with  these  charges  seriatim. 

With  regard  to  the  first,  we  have  the  positive  and 
public  testimony  of  Lady  Burton,  which  was  never 

45 


7°6       Ube  TRomance  of  Ssabel  3lat>g  Burton 

contradicted  during  her  lifetime,  to  the  effect  that  her 
husband  was  alive  when  the  Sacrament  of  Extreme 
Unction  was  administered  to  him.  As,  however,  this 
testimony  has  been  publicly  called  in  question,  though 
not  until  eight  months  after  her  death,  we  obtained 
through  the  kindness  of  the  Baroness  Paul  de  Ralli, 
a  friend  of  Lady  Burton  at  Trieste,  the  following 
written  attestation  from  the  priest  who  attended  Sir 
Richard  Burton's  death-bed,  and  who  is  still  living  : 

declaration.1 

t(  On  October  20,  1 890,  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
I  was  called  in  to  assist  at  the  last  moments  of  Sir 
Richard  Burton,  British  Consul. 

"  Knowing  that  he  had  been  brought  up,  or  born  in, 
the  Evangelical  religion,  before  repairing  to  his  house 
I  went  to  see  Dr.  Giovanni  Sust,  the  Provost  of  this 
Cathedral,  in  order  to  find  out  from  him  what  I  was  to 
do  in  the  matter.  He  replied  that  I  should  go,  and  act 
accordingly  as  the  circumstances  might  seem  to  require. 

"  So  I  went. 

"  Entering  into  the  room  of  the  sick  man,  I  found 
him  in  bed  with  the  doctor  and  Lady  Burton  beside 
him. 

"  At  first  sight  it  seemed  that  I  was  looking,  not  at  a 
sick  man,  but  rather  at  a  corpse.  My  first  question 
was,  *  Is  he  alive  or  dead  ?  *  Lady  Burton  replied  that 
he  was  still  living,  and  the  doctor  nodded  his  head,  to 
confirm  what  she  had  said. 

"  And  in  fact  the  doctor  was  seated  on  the  bed  hold- 
1  Translated  from  the  Italian. 


Ube  Swort)  falls  ;°7 

ing  in  his  hands  the  hand  of  Sir  Richard  Burton  to  feel 
the  beat  of  his  pulse,  and  from  time  to  time  he  adminis- 
tered some  corroborants?  or  gave  an  injection.  Which  of 
these  two  things  he  did  I  cannot  now  recollect,  but  it  was 
certainly  one  or  the  other  of  them.  These  are  things 
which  one  would  certainly  not  do  to  a  corpse,  but  only 
to  a  person  still  living  ;  or  if  these  acts  were  performed 
with  the  knowledge  that  the  person  in  question  was 
already  dead,  they  could  not  be  done  without  laying  one- 
self open  to  an  accusation  of  deception,  all  the  more 
reprehensible  if  put  in  operation  at  such  a  solemn 
moment. 

"  In  such  a  case  all  the  responsibility  would  fall  upon 
the  doctor  in  charge,  who  with  a  single  word,  or  even 
a  sign  given  secretly  to  the  priest,  would  have  been  able 
to  prevent  the  administration  of  the  Holy  Sacrament 
of  Extreme  Unction. 

"  The  second  observation  which  I  made  to  Lady 
Burton  was  one  concerning  religion — namely,  'That 
whoever  was  of  the  Evangelical  persuasion  could  not 
receive  the  Holy  Sacraments  in  this  manner.' 

"  To  this  observation  of  mine  she  answered  that 
some  years  ago  he  had  received  Extreme  Unction, 
being,  if  I  mistake  not,  at  Cannes,  and  that  on  this 
occasion  he  had  abjured  the  heresy  and  professed  him- 
self as  belonging  to  the  Catholic  Church.  On  such 
a  declaration  from  Lady  Burton,  I  did  that  which  a 
minister  of  God  ought  to  do,  and  decided  to  administer 
to  the  dying  man  the  last  comforts  of  our  holy  religion. 
As  it  seemed  to  me  that  there  was  not  much  time  to 
1  A  tonic,  a  strengthening  restorative. 


iRomance  of  Isabel  Xa&g  JSurton 

lose,  I  wished  to  administer  the  Extreme  Unction  by 
means  of  one  single  anointing  on  the  forehead,  as  is 
done  in  urgent  cases  ;  but  Lady  Burton  said  that  death 
was  not  so  imminent ;  therefore  she  begged  me  to  carry 
out  fully  the  prescribed  ceremony  of  Extreme  Unction. 

"  This  completed,  together  with  the  other  customary 
prayers  for  the  dying,  I  took  my  departure.  I  re- 
turned to  the  house  of  the  Provost,  Dr.  Sust,  and  laid 
everything  before  him,  and  he  said  I  had  done  quite 
right. 

"  In  a  certificate  of  death  drawn  up  by  the  Visitatore 
dei  Morti,1  Inspector  Corani,  in  the  register,  under  the 
head  of  religion,  is  written  *  Catholic.'  The  funeral 
also  was  conducted  according  to  the  rites  of  the  Catholic 
Church.  I  am  convinced  that  Sir  Richard  Burton  really 
became  a  Catholic,  but  that  outwardly  he  did  not  wish 
this  to  be  known,  having  regard  to  his  position  as  a  Consul 
to  a  Government  of  the  Evangelical  persuasion ;  and  I 
have  built  up  the  hope  that  the  innumerable  prayers 
for  her  husband's  conversion  and  good  works  of  his 
pious  wife  Lady  Burton  will  have  been  heeded  by  that 
Lord  who  said  unto  us,  *  Pray,  and  your  prayers  shall 
be  answered,'  and  that  his  soul  will  now  have  been 
received  by  the  good  God,  together  with  that  of  the 
saintly  lady  his  wife. 

"  One  question  I  permit  myself  to  ask  of  those  who 
have  now  published  the  Life  of  Sir  Richard  Burton, 
which  is  this,  *  Why  did  they  not  publish  it  during  the 
lifetime  of  Lady  Burton  ?  Who  better  than  she  would 

1  An  official  (generally  a  physician)  who  visits  the  dead,  and 
assures  himself  that  the  death  is  real,  and  not  an  apparent  one. 


Ube  Sworfc  ffalte  709 

have  been  able  to  enlighten  the  world  on  this  point 
of  much  importance  ?  Why  publish  it  now  when  she 
is  no  longer  here  to  speak  ? ' 

"Trieste,  January  12,  1897, 

"  PIETRO  MARTELANI, 

"Formerly  Parish   Priest  of  the   B.V.   del  Soccorso, 
now  Prebendary  and  Priest  of  the  Cathedral  of  Trieste."  l 

1  The  Baroness  Paul  de  Ralli,  who  procured  the  above  attestation 
from  the  priest,  sent  it  in  the  first  instance  to  Cardinal  Vaughan, 
together  with  the  following  letter : 

"TRIESTE,  AUSTRIA,  January  19,  1897. 

"  MY  LORD  CARDINAL, 

"There  has  lately  been  published  a  so-called  'true*  Life  of 
the  late  Sir  Richard  Burton,  written  by  his  niece.  Since  my  letter  to 
The  Catholic  Times,  which  appeared  in  the  issue  of  December  24,  it 
has  been  pointed  out  to  me  that  it  would  be  well  if  I  could  procure  a 
written  attestation  of  the  priest  who  gave  Extreme  Unction  to  the 
late  Sir  Richard  Burton.  I  am  authorized  by  Monseigneur  Sterk  to 
place  in  the  hands  of  your  Eminence  the  enclosed  manuscript,  written 
by  Monseigneur  Martelani,  who  is  now  Prebendary  of  the  Cathedral 
here.  As  an  intimate  friend  of  the  Burtons,  I  beg  to  say  that  every- 
thing said  about  the  life  of  the  Burtons  at  this  place  in  the  '  true  ' 
life  has  been  written  from  dictation,  and,  furthermore,  that  I  could 
name  the  authoress's  informant,  which  makes  the  book  worthless  for 
those  who  know  the  source  from  which  the  authoress  has  gathered 
her  information — the  same  source  which  has  made  Lady  Burton's 
life  hideous  from  the  day  of  her  husband's  death  to  the  time  she  left 
this  place.  As  regards  those  who  claim  to  have  known  all  about 
Sir  Richard  Burton—'  They  knew  the  man  well,'  etc. — allow  me  to 
point  out  that  the  exoteric  subtleties  of  his  character  were  only 
exceeded  by  the  esoteric  ;  and  to  what  an  extent  this  is  true  is  only 
known  to  those  who  were  at  the  same  time  his  friends  and  his  wife's 
intimate  friends,  of  whom  there  are  several  here  beside  myself.  My 
position  at  the  Villa  Gosslett  was  perhaps  a  little  exceptional. 
Having  come  here  from  England  in  1875  after  my  marriage,  I  was 
looked  upon  by  the  Burtons  as  a  sort  of  ex-subject  of  theirs. 
"  Believe  me  to  be,  my  Lord  Cardinal, 
"  Yours  faithfully, 

"CATHERINE  DE  RALLI." 


?io       tTbe  "(Romance  of  3sabel  Xaog  Burton 

I  am  further  able  to  state  that  the  gross  travesty  of 
Lady  Burton's  grief — "  her  weeping  and  wailing  on  the 
floor,"  etc.,  etc. — is  the  outcome  of  a  malevolent  imagi- 

*  '  D 

nation,  from  which  nothing  is  sacred,  not  even  a  widow's 
tears.  Lady  Burton  bore  herself  through  the  most 
awful  trial  of  her  life  with  quietude,  fortitude,  and 
resignation. 

And  now  to  turn  to  the  second  charge — to  wit,  that 
Sir  Richard  was  never  a  Catholic  at  all ;  from  which,  if 
true,  it  follows  that  he  was  in  fact  "  kidnapped  "  by  his 
wife  and  the  priest  on  his  death-bed. 

If  this  charge  did  not  involve  a  suggestion  of  bad 
faith  on  the  part  of  Lady  Burton,  I  should  have  ignored 
it ;  for  I  hold  most  strongly  that  a  man's  religion  is  a 
matter  for  himself  alone,  a  matter  between  himself  and 
his  God,  one  in  which  no  outsider  has  any  concern. 
Burton  himself  took  this  view,  for  he  once  said  :  "  My 
religious  opinion  is  of  no  importance  to  anybody  but 
myself.  No  one  knows  what  my  religious  views  are. 
I  object  to  confession,  and  I  will  not  confess.  My 
standpoint  is,  and  I  hope  ever  will  be,  the  Truth,  as  far 
as  it  is  in  me,  known  only  to  myself."  l  This  attitude 
he  maintained  to  the  world  to  the  day  of  his  death ;  but 
to  his  wife  he  was  different.  Let  me  make  my  meaning 
quite  clear.  I  do  not  say  Burton  was  a  Catholic  or 
that  he  was  not ;  I  offer  no  opinion.  But  what  I  do 
assert  with  all  emphasis  is  that  he  gave  his  wife  reason 
to  believe  that  he  had  become  a  Catholic ;  and  in  this 
matter  she  acted  in  all  good  faith,  in  accordance  with 
the  highest  dictates  of  her  conscience  and  her  duty. 

1  Speech  at  the  Anthropological  Society,  London,  1865. 


Sworfc  ffalls  7" 

Burton  knew  how  strongly  his  wife  felt  on  this  subject, 
and  how  earnest  were  her  convictions.  He  knew  that 
his  conversion  to  Catholicism  was  her  daily  and  nightly 
prayer.  These  considerations  probably  weighed  with 
him  when  he  signed  the  following  paper  (reproduced  in 
facsimile  on  the  opposite  page).  He  signed  it  on  the 
understanding  that  she  was  to  keep  it  secret  till  he  was 
a  dying  man : 

"  GORIZIA,  February  15,  1877. 

"Should  my  husband,  Richard  Burton,  be  on  his 
death-bed  unable  to  speak — I  perhaps  already  dead — and 
that  he  may  wish  to  have  the  grace  to  retract  and  recant 
his  former  errors,  and  to  join  the  Catholic  Church,  and 
also  to  receive  the  Sacraments  of  Penance,  Extreme 
Unction,  and  Holy  Eucharist,  he  might  perhaps  be 
able  to  sign  this  paper,  or  make  the  sign  of  the  cross  to 
show  his  need. 

(Signed)     "RICHARD  F.  BURTON." 

I  do  not  analyse  the  motives  which  led  Burton  to 
sign  this  paper.  He  may  have  done  it  merely  to  satisfy 
his  wife  (for,  from  the  Agnostic  point  of  view,  the  Sacra- 
ments would  not  have  mattered  much  either  way),  or  he 
may  have  done  it  from  honest  conviction,  or  from  a 
variety  of  causes,  for  human  motives  are  strangely  com- 
mingled ;  but  that  he  did  sign  it  there  is  no  doubt. 
Lady  Burton,  at  any  rate,  took  it  all  in  good  faith,  and 
acted  accordingly  in  sending  for  the  priest  ;  the  priest, 
on  receiving  her  assurance,  acted  in  good  faith  in  ad- 
ministering to  Sir  Richard  Burton  the  last  rites  of  the 
Church  ;  and  the  Bishop  of  Trieste  also  acted  in  good 


7«      TTbe  IRomance  of  -Jsabel  Xaos  Burton 

faith  in  conceding  to  him  a  Catholic  funeral.  It  is 
difficult  to  see  how  any  of  them  could  have  acted 
otherwise. 

Lastly,  it  has  been  asserted  that  Sir  Richard  Burton 
"  loathed "  the  Roman  Catholic  Church ;  and  though 
he  was  indifferent  to  most  religions,  he  entertained  a 
"  positive  aversion "  to  this  one,  and  therefore  to 
"  kidnap "  him  on  his  death-bed  was  peculiarly  cruel. 
I  have  read  most  of  Burton's  writings,  and  it  is  true, 
especially  in  his  earlier  books,  that  he  girds  against  what 
he  conceives  to  be  certain  abuses  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church  and  her  priesthood  in  out-of-the-way  countries ; 
but  then  he  attacks  other  forms  of  Christianity  and 
other  religions  too.  He  had  a  great  hatred  of  cant  and 
humbug  under  the  cloak  of  religion,  and  denounced 
them  accordingly.  There  is  nothing  remarkable  in 
this.  We  all  denounce  cant  and  humbug  in  the 
abstract,  often  most  loudly  when  we  are  humbugs 
ourselves.  If  Burton  attacked  Christianity  more  than 
other  religions,  and  Catholicism  more  than  other  forms 
of  Christianity,  he  probably  did  so  because  they  came 
more  in  his  way.  His  religious  acts  generally  appear 
to  have  been  guided  by  the  principle  of  "  When  one  is 
at  Rome,  do  as  Rome  does."  He  was  a  Mohammedan 
among  Mohammedans,  a  Mormon  among  Mormons, 
a  Sufi  among  the  Shazlis,  and  a  Catholic  among  the 
Catholics.  One  thing  he  certainly  was  not  in  his  later 
years — a  member  of  the  Church  of  England.  He  was 
baptized  and  brought  up  in  the  Anglican  Communion. 
He  entered  at  Trinity  College,  Oxford,  and  he  joined 
the  Indian  army  as  a  member  of  the  Church  of 


TEbe  Sworfc  falls  713 

England ;  but  when  he  was  at  Goa  in  1 847  he  left  off 
"  sitting  under  "  the  garrison  chaplain  and  betook  him- 
self to  the  Roman  Catholic  chapel,  and  availed  himself 
of  the  ministrations  of  the  Goanese  priest.  From  that 
time,  except  officially,  he  never  seems  to  have  availed 
himself  of  the  services  of  the  Church  of  England.  I 
do  not  unduly  press  the  point  of  his  attendance  at  the 
Roman  Catholic  chapel  at  Goa,  for  it  may  simply  have 
meant  that  Burton  merely  went  to  the  chapel  and 
worshipped  as  a  Catholic  among  Catholics,  just  as  when 
he  was  at  Mecca  he  worshipped  as"  a  Mohammedan 
among  Mohammedans  ;  but  it  tells  against  the  theory 
that  he  "  loathed  "  Catholicism,  as  the  same  necessity 
did  not  exist  at  Goa  as  at  Mecca.  It  was  a  purely 
voluntary  act  on  his  part.  Henceforward  it  would 
seem  that,  so  far  from  being  prejudiced  against 
Catholicism,  Burton  was  always  coquetting  with  it ;  and 
if  he  took  any  religion  seriously  at  all,  he  may  be  said 
to  have  taken  this  one  seriously.  The  following  facts 
also  go  to  prove  this  theory.  He  married  a  Catholic 
wife,  of  whose  strong  religious  views  he  was  well 
aware.  Before  the  marriage  he  signed  a  paper  to  the 
effect  that  his  children,  if  any,  should  be  brought  up  in 
the  Roman  Catholic  faith.  He  obtained  and  used  the 
following  letter  from  Cardinal  Wiseman,  with  whom 
he  was  on  friendly  terms : 

"  LONDON,  June  28,  1856. 
"DEAR  SIR, 

"  Allow  me  to  introduce  to  you  Captain  Burton, 
the  bearer  of  this  note,  who  is  employed  by  Government 
to  make  an  expedition  to  Africa,  at  the  head  of  a  little 


714      Ubc  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JSurton 

band  of  adventurers.  Captain  Burton  has  been  highly 
spoken  of  in  the  papers  here  ;  and  I  have  been  asked 
to  give  him  this  introduction  to  you  as  a  Catholic 
officer. 

"I  am,  dear  Sir, 

"  Yours  sincerely  in  Christ, 

"N.  CARD.  WISEMAN. 
"  COLONEL  HAMMERTON,"  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

He  habitually  wore  a  crucifix,  which  his  wife  had 
given  him,  next  his  skin  ;  he  championed  the  cause  of 
the  Catholic  converts  in  Syria  ;  and  when  staying  with 
his  wife's  family,  he  would  frequently  attend  a  service  in 
a  Roman  Catholic  church,  and  behave  in  all  things  as  a 
Catholic  worshipper.  I  am  not  saying  that  these  things 
prove  that  Burton  was  a  Catholic,  but  they  afford  strong 
presumptive  evidence  that  he  had  leanings  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Catholicism  ;  and  undoubtedly  they  go  to  prove 
that  he  did  not  "  loathe  "  the  Catholic  religion.  One 
thing  is  certain,  he  was  too  much  of  a  scholar  to  indulge 
in  any  vulgar  prejudice  against  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  and  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  insult  her 
priests. 

After  all  there  is  nothing  inherently  improbable  in 
Burton's  conversion  to  Catholicism.  Most  of  his  life 
had  been  spent  in  countries  where  Catholicism  is  prac- 
tically the  only  form  of  Christianity  ;  and  such  a 
mind  as  his,  if  on  the  rebound  from  Agnosticism, 
would  be  much  more  likely  to  find  a  refuge  in  the 
bosom  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  than  in  the 
half-way  house  of  Evangelical  Protestantism.  To  a 
temperament  like  Burton's,  steeped  in  Eastern  mysticism 


TCbe  Sworfc  if  alls  715 

and  Sufiism,  Catholicism  would  undoubtedly  have  offered 
strong  attractions  ;  for  the  links  between  the  highest 
form  of  Sufiism  and  the  Gospel  of  St.  John,  the  Ecstasis 
of  St.  Bernard,  and  other  writings  of  the  Fathers  of  the 
Church  who  were  of  the  Alexandrian  school,  are  well 
known,  and  could  hardly  have  been  ignored  by  Burton, 
who  made  a  comparative  study  of  religions. 

This,  however,  is  by  the  way,  and  has  only  an 
indirect  bearing  on  his  wife's  action.  She,  who  knew 
him  best,  and  from  whom  he  had  no  secrets,  believed 
that,  in  his  later  years  at  least,  her  husband  was  at  heart 
a  Catholic.  He  gave  her  ample  grounds  for  this  belief, 
and  she  acted  upon  it  in  all  good  faith.  That  he  may 
have  deceived  her  is  possible,  though  not  probable ; 
but  that  she  would  have  deceived  a  priest  of  her  Church 
at  the  most  solemn  moment  of  her  life,  and  on  one  of 
the  most  sacred  things  of  her  religion,  is  both  impossible 
and  improbable.  The  whole  nature  of  the  woman,  her 
transparent  truthfulness,  her  fervent  piety,  rise  up  in 
witness  against  this  charge,  and  condemn  it.  And  to 
what  end  would  she  have  done  this  thing  ?  No  one 
knew  better  than  Lady  Burton  that  there  is  One  whom 
she  could  not  deceive ;  for  with  her  the  things  invisible 
were  living  realities,  and  the  actualities  of  this  life  were 
but  passing  things  which  come  and  fade  away. 


BOOK    III 

WIDOWED 
(1890—1896) 

"El  Maraa  min  ghayr  Zaujuhd  mislahd  tayardn  maksds  el 

Jcndhh." 

("  The  woman  without  her  husband  is  like  a  bird  with  one  wing  " 


717 


CHAPTER   I 

THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  "  THE  SCENTED  GARDEN" 

Now  I  indeed  will  hide  desire  and  all  repine, 

And  light  up  this  my  fire  that  neighbours  see  no  sign: 

Accept  I  what  befalls  by  order  of  my  Lord, 

Haply  he  too  accept  this  humble  act  of  mine. 

ALF  LAYLAH  WA  LAYLAH 

(Burton's  "Arabian  Nights"). 

SIR  RICHARD  BURTON'S  funeral  was  attended 
by  a  great  crowd  of  mourners  and  representatives 
of  every  class  in  Trieste.  The  Austrian  authorities 
accorded  him  military  honours,  and  the  Bishop  of 
Trieste  conceded  all  the  rites  of  the  Church.  His 
remains  were  laid,  with  much  pomp  and  circumstance, 
in  their  temporary  resting-place — a  small  chapel  in 
the  burial-ground — until  his  widow  could  take  them 
back  with  her  to  England.  The  funeral  over,  Lady 
Burton  returned  to  her  desolate  house — a  home  no 
longer,  for  the  loved  presence  which  had  made  the 
palazzo  a  home,  as  it  would  have  made  a  home 
to  her  of  the  humblest  hut  on  earth,  was  gone 
for  ever.  The  house  was  but  an  empty  shell.  Sir 
Richard  Burton's  death  had  been  so  sudden  and  un- 
expected that  none  of  Lady  Burton's  near  relatives,  her 

719 


720       a  be  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Burton 

sisters,  were  able  to  reach  her  in  time ;  and  though  they 
had  telegraphed  to  her  offering  to  come  at  once,  she 
had  replied  asking  them  not  to  undertake  the  journey. 
And  so  it  came  about  that,  in  this  hour  of  sorest  trial, 
she  was  absolutely  alone.  She  had  no  one  to  turn  to 
in  her  grief ;  she  had  no  children's  love  to  solace  her  ; 
she  had  no  son  to  say,  "  Mother,  lean  on  me  "  ;  no 
daughter  to  share  her  sorrow.  Friends  she  had  in 
plenty,  and  friends  such  as  the  world  rarely  gives, 
but  they  could  not  intrude  their  sympathy  overmuch 
at  such  a  time  as  this.  Moreover,  she  had  concen- 
trated all  her  affections  on  her  husband ;  she  had 
lived  so  entirely  for  him,  and  in  him,  that  she  had 
not  formed  any  of  those  intimate  friendships  in  which 
some  women  delight.  She  had,  in  short,  put  all 
her  earthly  happiness  in  one  frail  barque,  and  it  had 
foundered. 

Hitherto  we  have  followed  her  through  her  wedded 
life,  that  beautiful  union  which  was  more  like  a  poem 
than  an  ordinary  marriage.  We  have  seen  how  the 
love  which  she  bore  her  husband  had  sanctified  her  life, 
and  his,  lifting  it  above  and  beyond  the  ordinary  love 
of  men  and  women,  glorifying  all  things,  even  her 
meanest  tasks,  for  they  were  done  in  love's  holy  name. 
We  have  seen  how  she  knew  no  fear,  spared  herself 
no  pain,  heeded  no  rebuff  in  the  service  of  the  man  she 
loved.  We  have  followed  her  in  journeyings  often, 
in  perils  of  sea,  in  perils  of  robbers,  in  perils  of  the 
heathen,  in  perils  of  the  wilderness,  in  weariness  and 
sorrow,  in  watchings  often,  in  hunger  and  thirst,  and 
besides  these  things  that  were  without,  bearing  those 


ZEbe  Urutb  about  "Ube  Scentefc  0arfcen"    721 

secret  sorrows — "my  beloved  secret  cross,"  she 
called  them — which  are  known  only  to  the  soul  and 
its  God.  We  have  seen  all  this,  the  full,  perfect, 
glorious  life  which  she  lived  by  the  side  of  the  man  she 
loved  ;  in  the  brief  survey  of  the  few  broken  years 
left  to  her  on  earth,  we  shall  henceforth  see  her  alone — 
alone,  yet  not  alone,  for  the  Divine  love  went  with 
her,  and  with  her  also  was  ever  present  the  memory 
of  an  earthly  love,  a  love  purified  and  holy,  growing 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  love  of  the  perfect  day. 

If  we  were  to  search  the  wide  world  over,  ransack 
history,  dive  deep  into  the  annals  of  the  past,  I  doubt 
if  there  would  be  found  any  more  perfect  example  of 
unselfish  love  than  that  which  is  exemplified  in  the 
wedded  life  of  this  woman.  With  her  it  was  always 
"  Richard  only."  It  is  with  this  thought  in  our  minds 
that  we  approach  her  crowning  act  of  self-sacrifice, 
her  last  supreme  offering  on  the  altar  of  her  love.  I 
refer  to  the  act  whereby  she  deliberately  sacrificed  the 
provision  her  husband  had  made  for  her,  and  faced 
poverty,  and  the  contumely  of  her  enemies,  for  the  sake 
of  his  fair  memory. 

Lady  Burton's  first  act  after  her  husband's  death 
was  to  lock  up  his  manuscripts  and  papers  to  secure 
them  against  all  curious  and  prying  eyes — a  wise  and 
necessary  act  under  the  circumstances,  and  one  which 
was  sufficient  to  show  that,  great  though  her  grief 
was,  it  did  not  rob  her  for  one  moment  of  her  faculties. 
As  soon  as  her  husband's  funeral  was  over,  she 
went  back  to  his  rooms,  locked  the  door  securely,  and 
examined  carefully  all  his  books  and  papers,  burning 

46 


722      tTbe  IRomance  of  -Jsabel  Xafcp  JSurton 

those  which  he  had  desired  to  be  burnt,  and  sorting  and 
classifying  the  others.  Among  the  manuscripts  was 
Sir  Richard's  translation  of  the  notorious  Scented 
Garden,  Mens  Hearts  to  Gladden,  of  the  Shaykh  el 
Nafzawih,  which  he  had  been  working  at  the  day 
before  his  death,  completed  all  but  one  page,  and 
the  proceeds  of  which  he  had  told  his  wife  were  to 
form  her  jointure.  As  his  original  edition  of  ^he 
Arabian  Nights  had  brought  in  £10,000  profit,  the 
Scented  Garden,  beside  which  'The  Arabian  Nights  was  a 
"  baby  tale,"  might  reasonably  have  been  expected  to 
have  produced  as  much,  if  not  more.  Indeed,  a  few  days 
after  Sir  Richard's  death,  a  man  offered  Lady  Burton  six 
thousand  guineas  down  for  the  manuscript  as  it  stood, 
and  told  her  that  he  would  relieve  her  of  all  risk  and  re- 
sponsibility in  the  matter.  She  might,  therefore,  easily 
have  closed  with  this  offer  without  any  one  being  the 
wiser,  and  if  she  had  been  inclined  to  drive  a  bargain, 
she  would  doubtless  have  had  no  difficulty  in  securing 
double  the  price.  As  her  husband's  death  had  reduced 
her  to  comparative  poverty,  the  temptation  to  an 
ordinary  woman,  even  a  good  and  conscientious  woman, 
would  have  been  irresistible  ;  she  could  have  taken  the 
money,  and  have  quieted  her  conscience  with  some 
of  those  sophistries  which  we  can  all  call  to  our  aid 
on  occasion.  But  Lady  Burton  was  not  an  ordinary 
woman,  and  the  money  side  of  the  question  never 
weighed  with  her  for  one  moment.  How  she  acted 
at  this  crisis  in  her  life  is  best  told  by  herself. 

"  My  husband  had  been  collecting  for  fourteen  years 


Ube  Urutb  about  "ZTbe  Scentefc  earfcen"    723 

information  and  materials  on  a  certain  subject.  His 
last  volume  of  'The  Supplemental  Nights  had  been 
finished  and  out  on  November  13,  1888.  He  then 
gave  himself  up  entirely  to  the  writing  of  this  book, 
which  was  called  The  Scented  Garden,  a  translation  from 
the  Arabic.  It  treated  of  a  certain  passion.  Do  not 
let  any  one  suppose  for  a  moment  that  Richard  Burton 
ever  wrote  a  thing  from  the  impure  point  of  view. 
He  dissected  a  passion  from  every  point  of  view,  as 
a  doctor  may  dissect  a  body,  showing  its  source,  its 
origin,  its  evil,  and  its  good,  and  its  proper  uses,  as 
designed  by  Providence  and  Nature,  as  the  great 
Academician  Watts  paints  them.  In  private  life  he 
was  the  most  pure,  the  most  refined  and  modest  man 
that  ever  lived,  and  he  was  so  guileless  himself  that 
he  could  never  be  brought  to  believe  that  other  men 
said  or  used  these  things  from  any  other  standpoint. 
I,  as  a  woman,  think  differently.  The  day  before  he 
died  he  called  me  into  his  room  and  showed  me  half 
a  page  of  Arabic  manuscript  upon  which  he  was  working, 
and  he  said,  'To-morrow  I  shall  have  finished  this, 
and  I  promise  you  after  this  I  will  never  write  another 
book  upon  this  subject.  I  will  take  to  our  biography.' 
I  told  him  it  would  be  a  happy  day  when  he  left  off 
that  subject,  and  that  the  only  thing  that  reconciled 
me  to  it  was,  that  the  doctors  had  said  that  it  was 
so  fortunate,  with  his  partial  loss  of  health,  that  he 
could  find  something  to  interest  and  occupy  his  days. 
He  said,  *  This  is  to  be  your  jointure,  and  the  proceeds 
are  to  be  set  apart  for  an  annuity  for  you  ' ;  and  I  said, 
'  I  hope  not ;  I  hope  you  will  live  to  spend  it  like  the 


724      TEbe  TComance  of  Isabel  Xafcs  JSurton 


other.'  He  said,  '  I  am  afraid  it  will  make  a  great 
row  in  England,  because  'The  Arabian  Nights  was 
a  baby  tale  in  comparison  to  this,  and  I  am  in  com- 
munication with  several  men  in  England  about  it.* 
The  next  morning,  at  7  a.m.,  he  had  ceased  to  exist. 
Some  days  later,  when  I  locked  myself  up  in  his  rooms, 
and  sorted  and  examined  the  manuscripts,  I  read  this 
one.  No  promise  had  been  exacted  from  me,  because 
the  end  had  been  so  unforeseen,  and  I  remained  for 
three  days  in  a  state  of  perfect  torture  as  to  what  I  ought 
to  do  about  it.  During  that  time  I  received  an  offer 
from  a  man  whose  name  shall  be  always  kept  private, 
of  six  thousand  guineas  for  it.  He  said,  c  I  know 
from  fifteen  hundred  to  two  thousand  men  who  will 
buy  it  at  four  guineas,  i.e.  at  two  guineas  the  volume  ; 
and  as  I  shall  not  restrict  myself  to  numbers,  but 
supply  all  applicants  on  payment,  I  shall  probably  make 
^20,000  out  of  it.'  I  said  to  myself,  'Out  of  fifteen 
hundred  men,  fifteen  will  probably  read  it  in  the  spirit 
of  science  in  which  it  was  written  ;  the  other  fourteen 
hundred  and  eighty-five  will  read  it  for  filth's  sake, 
and  pass  it  to  their  friends,  and  the  harm  done  may  be 
incalculable.'  '  Bury  it,'  said  one  adviser  ;  '  don't 
decide.'  *  That  means  digging  it  up  again  and  repro- 
ducing at  will.'  *  Get  a  man  to  do  it  for  you,'  said 
No.  2  ;  '  don't  appear  in  it.'  *  I  have  got  that,'  I 
said.  *  I  can  take  in  the  world,  but  I  cannot  deceive 
God  Almighty,  who  holds  my  husband's  soul  in 
His  hands.'  I  tested  one  man  who  was  very  earnest 
about  it  :  'Let  us  go  and  consult  So-and-so';  but 
he,  with  a  little  shriek  of  horror,  said,  *  Oh,  pray 


TCbe  Urutb  about  "  ZTbe  Scentefc  (Baroen  "    725 

don't  let  me  have  anything  to  do  with  it ;  don't  let 
my  name  get  mixed  up  in  it,  but  it  is  a  beautiful 
book  I  know.' 

f(  I  sat  down  on  the  floor  before  the  fire  at  dark, 
to  consult  my  own  heart,  my  own  head.  How  I 
wanted  a  brother !  My  head  told  me  that  sin  is  the 
only  rolling  stone  that  gathers  moss ;  that  what  a 
gentleman,  a  scholar,  a  man  of  the  world  may  write 
when  living,  he  would  see  very  differently  to  what 
the  poor  soul  would  see  standing  naked  before  its 
God,  with  its  good  or  evil  deeds  alone  to  answer 
for,  and  their  consequences  visible  to  it  for  the  first 
moment,  rolling  on  to  the  end  of  time.  Oh  for  a 
friend  on  earth  to  stop  and  check  them  !  What  would 
he  care  for  the  applause  of  fifteen  hundred  men  now — 
for  the  whole  world's  praise,  and  God  offended.  My 
heart  said,  *  You  can  have  six  thousand  guineas  ;  your 
husband  worked  for  you,  kept  you  in  a  happy  home, 
with  honour  and  respect  for  thirty  years.  How  are 
you  going  to  reward  him  ?  That  your  wretched  body 
may  be  fed  and  clothed  and  warmed  for  a  few  miserable 
months  or  years,  will  you  let  that  soul,  which  is  part 
of  your  soul,  be  left  out  in  cold  and  darkness  till 
the  end  of  time,  till  all  those  sins  which  may  have 
been  committed  on  account  of  reading  those  writings 
have  been  expiated,  or  passed  away  perhaps  for  ever  ? 
Why,  it  would  be  just  parallel  with  the  original  thirty 
pieces  of  silver  ! '  I  fetched  the  manuscript  and  laid  it 
on  the  ground  before  me,  two  large  volumes'  worth. 
Still  my  thoughts  were,  Was  it  a  sacrilege?  It  was 
his  magnum  opus,  his  last  work  that  he  was  so  proud 


7*6      tlbe  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  Button 

of,  that  was  to  have  been  finished  on  the  awful  morrow 
— that  never  came.  Will  he  rise  up  in  his  grave  and 
curse  me  or  bless  me?  The  thought  will  haunt  me 
to  death,  but  Sadi  and  El  Shaykh  el  Nafzawih,  who 
were  pagans,  begged  pardon  of  God  and  prayed  not 
to  be  cast  into  hell  fire  for  having  written  them,  and 
implored  their  friends  to  pray  for  them  to  the  Lord, 
that  He  would  have  mercy  on  them.  And  then  I  said, 
*  Not  only  not  for  six  thousand  guineas,  but  not  for  six 
million  guineas  will  I  risk  it.'  Sorrowfully,  reverently, 
and  in  fear  and  trembling,  I  burnt  sheet  after  sheet, 
until  the  whole  of  the  volumes  were  consumed." l 

As  to  the  act  itself  I  am  not  called  upon  to  express 
any  opinion.  But  there  can  be  no  two  opinions  among 
fair-minded  people  as  to  the  heroism,  the  purity,  and 
the  sublime  self-sacrifice  of  the  motives  which  prompted 
Lady  Burton  to  this  deed.  Absolutely  devoted  to 
her  husband  and  his  interests  as  she  had  been  in  his 
lifetime,  she  was  equally  jealous  of  his  honour  now 
that  he  was  dead.  Nothing  must  tarnish  the  bright- 
ness of  his  good  name.  It  was  this  thought,  above 
all  others,  which  led  her  to  burn  'The  Scented  Garden. 
For  this  act  the  vials  of  misrepresentation  and  abuse 
were  poured  on  Lady  Burton's  head.  She  was 
accused  of  the  "bigotry  of  a  Torquemada,  the  vandal- 
ism of  a  John  Knox."  She  has  been  called  hysterical 
and  illiterate.  It  has  been  asserted  that  she  did 
it  from  selfish  motives,  "for  the  sake  of  her  own 
salvation,  through  the  promptings  of  a  benighted 

1  Lady  Burton's  letter  to  The  Morning  Post,  June  19,  1891. 


religion,"  for  fear  of  the  legal  consequences  which 
might  fall  upon  her  if  she  sold  the  book,  for  love  of 
gain,  for  love  of  notoriety,  for  love  of  "  posing  as  a 
martyr,"  and  so  on,  and  so  on.  She  was  publicly  vilified 
and  privately  abused,  pursued  with  obscene,  anonymous, 
and  insulting  letters  until  the  day  of  her  death.  In 
fact,  every  imputation  was  hurled  at  her,  and  she 
who  might  have  answered  all  her  persecutors  with 
a  word,  held  her  peace,  or  broke  it  only  to  put  them 
on  another  track.  It  was  not  merely  the  act  itself 
which  caused  her  suffering ;  it  was  the  long  perse- 
cution which  followed  her  from  the  day  her  letter 
appeared  in  The  Morning  Post  almost  to  the  day 
she  died.  How  keenly  she  felt  it  none  but  those 
who  knew  her  best  will  ever  know.  A  proud,  high- 
spirited  woman,  she  had  never  schooled  herself  to 
stay  her  hand,  but  generally  gave  her  adversaries  back 
blow  for  blow  ;  but  these  cowardly  attacks  she  bore 
in  silence,  nay  more,  she  counted  all  the  suffering  as 
gain,  for  she  was  bearing  it  for  the  sake  of  the  man 
she  loved. 

And  this  silence  would  never  have  been  broken, 
and  the  true  reasons  which  led  Lady  Burton  to  act  as 
she  did  would  never  have  been  told  to  the  world, 
had  it  not  been  that,  after  her  death,  a  woman,  whom 
she  had  never  injured  by  thought,  word,  or  deed,  has 
seen  fit  to  rake  up  this  unpleasant  subject  again,  for  the 
purpose  of  throwing  mud  on  her  memory,  impugning 
her  motives,  and  belittling  the  magnitude  of  her  sacrifice. 
It  is  solely  in  defence  that  the  truth  is  now  told. 

I  have  never  read  Sir  Richard's  translation  of  'The 


728      Ube  IRomance  ot  3sabel  Xa&g  Burton 

Scented  Garden,  for  the  simple  reason  that  there  is 
none  in  existence  (notwithstanding  all  that  has  been 
said  to  the  contrary)  ;  the  only  two  copies  were 
destroyed  by  his  widow.  But  I  have  read  another 
translation  of  the  book,  mainly  the  work  of  a  man 
who  was  also  an  Orientalist  and  a  distinguished 
soldier,  which,  though  doubtless  inferior  to  Burton's, 
is  more  than  sufficient  to  give  one  full  knowledge 
of  the  character  of  the  book.  I  have  read '  also 
Burton's  original  and  unexpurgated  edition  of  Alf 
Laylah  wa  Laylah  and  his  Terminal  Essay,  including 
the  Section  which  is  omitted  in  all  later  editions,  and 
certain  other  unpublished  notes  of  his  on  the  same 
subject.  Lady  Burton  also  talked  with  me  freely  on 
the  matter.  I  know  therefore  of  what  I  speak,  and 
am  not  in  the  same  position  as  Lady  Burton's  latest 
accuser,  who  declares  with  quite  unnecessary  emphasis 
that  she  has  never  read  The  Arabian  Nights,  and 
of  course  never  saw  the  burnt  manuscript  of  'The 
Scented  Garden.  She  is  therefore  obviously  disqualified 
to  express  any  opinion  on  the  subject. 

So  far  as  I  can  gather  from  all  I  have  learned,  the 
chief  value  of  Burton's  version  of  The  Scented  Garden 
lay  not  so  much  in  his  translation  of  the  text, 
though  that  of  course  was  admirably  done,  as  in  the 
copious  notes  and  explanations  which  he  had  gathered 
together  for  the  purpose  of  annotating  the  book.  He 
had  made  this  subject  a  study  of  years.  For  the  notes 
of  the  book  alone  he  had  been  collecting  material  for 
thirty  years,  though  his  actual  translation  of  it  only 
took  him  eighteen  months.  The  therne  of  The  Scentea 


Ube  Urutb  about  "Ube  Scentefc  Oaroen"    729 

Garden  is  one  which  is  familiar  to  every  student  of 
Oriental  literature.  Burton,  who  was  nothing  if  not 
thorough  in  all  he  undertook,  did  not  ignore  this.  In 
fact,  one  may  say  that  from  his  early  manhood  he  had 
been  working  at  it,  as  he  commenced  his  inquiries  soon 
after  his  arrival  in  India.  Lady  Burton,  it  will  be 
seen,  says  he  "  dissected  a  passion  from  every  point 
of  view,  as  a  doctor  may  dissect  a  body,  showing  its 
source,  its  origin,  its  evil,  and  its  good,  and  its  proper 
uses,  as  designed  by  Providence  and  Nature  "  ;  that  is, 
Burton  pursued  his  inquiries  on  this  subject  in  the  same 
spirit  as  that  which  has  animated  Kraft-Ebbing  and 
Moll,  and  other  men  of  science.  But  from  what  I 
have  read  in  'The  Arabian  Nights  and  elsewhere,  it 
seems  to  me  that  Burton's  researches  in  this  direction 
were  rather  of  an  ethnological  and  historical  character 
than  a  medical  or  scientific  one.  His  researches  had 
this  peculiarity,  that  whereas  most  of  the  writers  on  this 
subject  speak  from  hearsay,  Burton's  information  was 
obtained  at  first  hand,  by  dint  of  personal  inquiries. 
Thus  it  came  about  that  he  was  misunderstood.  For 
a  man,  especially  a  young  soldier  whose  work  is  not 
generally  supposed  to  lie  in  the  direction  of  scientific 
and  ethnological  investigation,  to  undertake  such  in- 
quiries was  to  lay  himself  open  to  unpleasant  imputa- 
tions. People  are  not  apt  to  distinguish  between 
scientific  motives  and  unworthy  ones,  and  so  Burton 
found  it.  His  contemporaries  and  comrades  in  India 
did  not  understand  him,  and  what  people  do  not 
understand  they  often  dislike.  In  his  regiment  he  soon 
incurred  odium,  and  a  cloud  of  prejudice  enveloped 


730      Ttbe  "Romance  of  -Jsabel  Xaop  Burton 

him.  Unfortunately,  too,  he  was  not  overwise  ;  and  he 
had  a  habit  of  telling  tales  against  himself,  partly  out 
of  bravado,  which  of  course  did  not  tend  to  improve 
matters.  People  are  very  apt  to  be  taken  at  their  own 
valuation,  especially  if  their  valuation  be  a  bad  one.  It 
must  not  be  supposed  that  I  am  giving  countenance, 
colour,  or  belief  to  these  rumours  against  Burton  for  a 
moment :  on  the  contrary,  I  believe  them  to  be  false  and 
unjust  ;  but  false  and  unjust  though  they  were,  they 
were  undoubtedly  believed  by  many,  and  herein  was  the 
gathering  of  the  cloud  which  hung  over  Burton's  head 
through  the  earlier  part  of  his  official  career.  To 
prove  that  I  am  not  drawing  on  my  own  imagination 
with  regard  to  this  theory,  I  quote  the  following,  told 
in  Burton's  own  words  : — 

"  In  1 845,  when  Sir  Charles  Napier  had  conquered 
and  annexed  Sind,  ...  it  was  reported  to  me  that 
Karachi,  a  townlet  of  some  two  thousand  souls,  and 
distant  not  more  than  a  mile  from  camp.  .  .  .  Being 
then  the  only  British  officer  who  could  speak  Sindi,  I 
was  asked  indirectly  to  make  inquiries,  and  to  report 
upon  the  subject  ;  and  I  undertook  the  task  on  the 
express  condition  that  my  report  should  not  be  for- 
warded to  the  Bombay  Government,  from  whom 
supporters  of  the  conqueror's  policy  could  expect  scant 
favour,  mercy,  or  justice.  Accompanied  by  a  Munshi, 
Mirza  Mohammed  Hosayn  Shiraz,  and  habited  as  a 
merchant,  Mirza  Abdullah  the  Bushiri  passed  many 
an  evening  in  the  townlet,  visited  all  the  porneia,  and 
obtained  the  fullest  details,  which  were  duly  dispatched 
to  Government  House.  But  the  '  Devil's  Brother ' 


Ube  TTrutb  about  "Ube  Scented  (Barren  "    731 

presently  quitted  Sind,  leaving  in  his  office  my  unfor- 
tunate official  ;  this  found  its  way  with  sundry  other 
reports  to  Bombay,  and  produced  the  expected  result. 
A  friend  in  the  secretariat  informed  me  that  my 
summary  dismissal  had  been  formally  proposed  by 
one  of  Sir  Charles  Napier's  successors,  whose  decease 
compels  me  parcere  sepulto,  but  this  excess  of  outraged 
modesty  was  not  allowed."  1 

Burton  was  not  dismissed  from  the  Service,  it  is  true, 
but  the  unfavourable  impression  created  by  the  incident 
remained.  He  was  refused  the  post  he  coveted — namely, 
to  accompany  the  second  expedition  to  Mooltan  as  inter- 
preter ;  and  seeing  all  prospect  of  promotion  at  an  end 
for  the  present,  he  obtained  a  long  furlough,  and  came 
home  from  India  under  a  cloud.  Evil  rumour  travels 
fast ;  and  when  he  went  to  Boulogne  (the  time  and 
place  where  he  first  met  Isabel),  there  were  plenty  of 
people  ready  to  whisper  ill  things  concerning  him. 
When  he  returned  to  India  two  years  after,  notwithstand- 
ing his  Mecca  exploit,  he  found  prejudice  still  strong 
against  him,  and  nothing  he  could  do  seemed  to  remove 
it.  His  enemies  in  India  and  at  home  were  not  slow  to 
use  it  against  him.  One  can  trace  its  baleful  influence 
throughout  his  subsequent  career.  Lady  Burton,  whose 
vigilance  on  her  husband's  behalf  never  slept,  and  who 
would  never  rest  until  she  confronted  his  enemies,  got 
to  know  of  it.  When  I  know  not,  in  what  way  I  know 
not,  but  the  fact  that  sooner  or  later  she  did  get  to 
know  of  it  is  indisputable.  How  she  fought  to  dispel 

1  Vol.  X.  Arabian  Nights,  Terminal  Essay,  Section  D,  pp.  205, 
206,  1886. 


732      ^be  Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JBurton 

this  cloud  none  but  herself  will  ever  know.  Official 
displeasure  she  could  brave,  definite  charges  she 
could  combat  ;  but  this  baseless  rumour,  shadowy, 
indefinite,  intangible,  ever  eluded  her,  but  eluded  her 
only  to  reappear.  She  could  not  grasp  it.  She  was 
conscious  that  the  thing  was  in  the  air,  so  to  speak, 
but  she  could  not  even  assume  its  existence.  She 
could  only  take  her  stand  by  her  husband,  and  point 
to  his  blameless  life  and  say,  "  You  are  all  the  world 
to  me  ;  I  trust  you  and  believe  in  you  with  all  my 
heart  and  soul."  And  in  this  her  wisdom  was  justified, 
for  at  last  the  calumny  died  down,  as  all  calumnies 
must  die,  for  lack  of  sustenance. 

When  'The  Arabian  Nights  came  out,  at  which  she 
had  worked  so  hard  to  manage  the  business  arrange- 
ments, Lady  Burton  did  not  read  the  book  throughout ; 
she  had  promised  her  husband  not  to  do  so.  She  had 
perhaps  a  vague  idea  of  some  of  its  contents,  for  she 
raised  objections.  He  explained  them  away,  and  she 
then  worked  heart  and  soul  to  ensure  its  success.  The 
success  which  the  book  achieved,  and  the  praise  with 
which  it  was  greeted,  were  naturally  gratifying  to  her, 
and  did  much  to  dispel  any  objections  which  she 
might  have  had,  especially  when  it  is  remembered 
that  this  book  yielded  profits  which  enabled  her  to 
procure  for  her  husband  every  comfort  and  luxury  for 
his  declining  years.  It  has  been  urged  against  her 
that  she  was  extravagant  because,  when  Burton  died, 
only  four  florins  remained  of  the  £10,000  which  they 
had  netted  by  'The  Arabian  Nights ;  but  when  it 
is  borne  in  mind  that  she  spent  every  penny  upon 


ftrutb  about  "Ube  Scentefc  <3art>en"    733 

her  husband  and  not  a  penny  upon  herself,  it  is 
not  possible  that  the  charge  of  extravagance  can 
be  maintained  against  her — certainly  not  in  a  selfish 
sense. 

When  Burton  took  to  translating  The  Scented 
Garden,  he  acquainted  his  wife  to  some  extent  with  its 
contents,  and  she  objected.  But  he  overcame  her 
objections,  as  he  had  done  before,  and  the  thought 
that  the  money  would  be  needed  to  maintain  her 
husband  in  the  same  comfort  as  he  had  enjoyed  during 
the  last  few  years  weighed  down  her  scruples  ;  besides 
which,  though  she  had  a  general  idea  that  the  book  was 
not  virginibus  purisque,  she  had  no  knowledge  of  its 
real  character.  When  therefore  she  read  it  for  the  first 
time,  in  the  lonely  days  of  her  early  widowhood,  with 
the  full  shock  of  her  sudden  loss  upon  her,  and  a  vivid 
sense  of  the  worthlessness  of  all  earthly  gain  brought 
home  to  her,  she  naturally  did  not  look  at  things  from 
the  worldly  point  of  view.  She  has  told  with  graphic 
power  how  she  sat  down  with  locked  doors  to  read  this 
book,  and  how  she  read  it  through  carefully,  page  by 
page ;  and  it  must  be  remembered  that  it  was  not 
Burton's  translation  alone  which  she  read,  but  also  the 
notes  and  evidence  which  he  had  collected  on  the  sub- 
ject. Then  it  was  that  the  real  nature  of  its  contents 
was  brought  home  to  her,  and  she  determined  to  act. 
It  has  been  said  that  she  only  "  half  understood " 
what  she  read.  Alas  !  she  understood  but  too  well, 
for  here  was  the  nameless  horror  which  she  had  tried 
to  track  to  earth  leaping  up  again  and  staring  her 
in  the  face.  She  knew  well  enough  what  interpreta- 


734      Hfce  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcp  JSurton 

tions  her  husband's  enemies — those  enemies  whom 
even  the  grave  does  not  silence — would  place  upon 
this  book  ;  how  they  would  turn  and  twist  it  about, 
and  put  the  worst  construction  upon  his  motives, 
and  so  blur  the  fair  mirror  of  his  memory.  Burton 
wrote  as  a  scholar  and  an  ethnologist  writing  to 
scholars  and  ethnologists.  But  take  what  precautions 
he  would,  sooner  or  later,  and  sooner  rather  than 
later,  the  character  of  his  book  would  ooze  out  to  the 
world,  and  the  ignorant  world  judges  harshly.  So  she 
burnt  the  manuscript  leaf  by  leaf;  and  by  the  act  she 
consummated  her  life  sacrifice  of  love. 

I  repeat  that  her  regard  for  her  husband's  memory 
was  her  supreme  reason  for  this  act.  That  there  were 
minor  reasons  is  not  denied  :  she  herself  has  stated 
them.  There  was  the  thought  of  the  harm  a  book  of 
this  kind  might  do ;  there  was  the  thought  of  her 
responsibility  to  God  and  man  ;  there  was  the  thought 
of  the  eternal  welfare  of  her  husband's  soul.  She  has 
stated,  "  It  is  my  belief  that  by  this  act,  if  my  husband's 
soul  were  weighed  down,  the  cords  were  cut,  and  it  was 
left  free  to  soar  to  its  native  heaven."  It  is  easy  to 
sneer  at  such  a  sentiment  as  this,  but  the  spiritual 
was  very  real  with  Lady  Burton.  All  these  minor 
considerations,  therefore,  weighed  with  her  in  addition 
to  the  greatest  of  them  all.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  came  to  her  the  thought  that  it  was  the  first  time 
she  had  ever  gone  against  her  husband's  wishes,  and  now 
that  he  was  dead  they  were  doubly  sacred  to  her.  The 
mental  struggle  which  she  underwent  was  a  terrible 
one  :  it  was  a  conflict  which  is  not  given  to  certain 


Ube  arutb  about  "TTbe  Scentefc  6aroen"    735 

lower  natures  to  know,  and  not  knowing  it,  they  can 
neither  understand  nor  sympathize.  I  make  bold  to 
say  that  the  sacrifice  which  she  made,  and  the  motives 
which  prompted  her  to  make  it,  will  stand  to  her 
honour  as  Jong  as  her  name  is  remembered. 

There  remain  two  other  considerations  :  the  first 
is — Why  did  she  make  this  act  known  to  the  world 
at  all  ?  Surely  it  would  have  been  better  from  every 
point  of  view  to  have  veiled  it  in  absolute  secrecy. 
She  has  given  the  answer  in  her  own  words  :  "I 
was  obliged  to  confess  this  because  there  were  fifteen 
hundred  men  expecting  the  book,  and  I  did  not  quite 
know  how  to  get  at  them  ;  also  I  wanted  to  avoid 
unpleasant  hints  by  telling  the  truth."  In  other  words, 
there  was  a  large  number  of  Burton's  supporters, 
persons  who  had  subscribed  to  'The  Arabian  Nights, 
and  all  his  literary  friends,  with  whom  he  was  in 
constant  communication,  who  knew  that  he  was 
working  at  The  Scented  Garden,  and  were  eagerly 
expecting  it.  Lady  Burton  burned  the  manuscript  in 
October,  1890;  she  did  not  make  her  public  confession 
of  the  act  in  The  Morning  Post  until  June,  1891,  nearly 
nine  months  after  the  event.  During  all  this  time 
she  was  continually  receiving  letters  asking  what  had 
become  of  the  book  which  she  knew  that  she  had 
destroyed.  What  course  was  open  to  her  ?  One 
answer  suggests  itself:  send  a  circular  or  write  privately 
to  all  these  people,  saying  that  the  book  would  not 
come  out  at  all.  But  this  was  impossible  because 
she  did  not  know  all  of  "  the  little  army  of  her 
husband's  admiring  subscribers " ;  she  neither  knew 


736      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  JBurton 

their  names  nor  their  addresses  ;  and  apart  from  the 
endless  worry  and  difficulty  of  answering  letters  which 
such  a  course  would  have  entailed,  a  garbled  version  of 
the  facts  would  be  sure  to  have  leaked  out,  and  then  she 
would  have  had  to  contradict  the  misstatements  publicly. 
Or  perhaps  spurious  copies  of  The  Scented  Garden  pro- 
fessing to  be  Sir  Richard's  translation  might  have  been 
foisted  upon  the  public,  and  she  would  have  been  under 
the  necessity  of  denouncing  them.  So  she  argued  that  it 
was  best  to  have  the  thing  over  and  done  with  once  for 
all,  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and  let  the  world 
say  what  it  pleased.  In  this  I  cannot  but  think  that 
she  was  right,  though  she  often  said,  "  I  have  never 
regretted  for  a  moment  having  burned  it,  but  I  shall 
regret  all  my  life  having  made  it  known  publicly, 
though  I  could  hardly  have  done  otherwise.  I  did  not 
know  my  public,  I  did  not  know  England."  Here 
I  think  she  was  wrong  in  confusing  England  with  a 
few  anonymous  letter-writers  and  scurrilous  persons  ; 
for  however  opinions  may  differ  upon  the  act  itself, 
its  wisdom  or  unwisdom,  all  right-thinking  people 
honoured  her  for  the  sacrifice  which  she  had  made. 
They  would  have  honoured  her  even  more  if  they 
had  known  that  she  had  done  it  for  the  sake  of  her 
husband's  name ! 

Her  latest  and  most  malevolent  accuser,  Miss  Stisted, 
has  also  urged  against  her  that  by  this  act  she  conveyed 
a  "wrong  impression  concerning  the  character  of  the 
book,"  and  so  cast  a  slur  upon  her  husband's  memory. 
A  wrong  impression  !  The  ignorance  and  animus  of 
this  attack  are  obvious.  The  character  of  the  manuscript 


TTrutb  about  "Ube  Scented  <3arDen"    737 

was  well  known :  it  was  the  translation  of  a  notorious 
book.  % 

The  story  of  Burton's  inquiries  in  this  unpleasant 
field  was  known  too,  if  not  to  the  many  at  least  to 
the  few,  and  his  enemies  had  not  scrupled  to  place 
the  worst  construction  on  his  motives.  His  wife  knew 
this  but  too  well,  and  she  fought  the  prejudice  with 
sleepless  vigilance  all  the  years  of  her  married  life, 
and  by  this  last  act  of  hers  did  her  best  to  bury  it 
in  oblivion.  Surely  it  is  cruelly  unjust  to  say  that  it 
was  she  who  cast  the  slur ! 

And  now  to  refer  to  another  matter.  Miss  Stisted 
animadverts  on  Lady  Burton's  having  sold  the  library 
edition  of  'The  Arabian  Nights  in  1894  "with  merely 
a  few  excisions  absolutely  indispensable."  "  Coming  as 
it  did  so  soon,"  she  says,  "  after  her  somewhat  theatrical 
destruction  of  'The  Scented  Garden"  this  act  "could 
not  be  permitted  to  pass  unchallenged."  She  not  only 
charges  Lady  Burton  with  inconsistency,  but  hints  at 
pecuniary  greed,  for  she  mentions  the  sum  she  received. 
Yet  there  was  nothing  inconsistent  in  Lady  Burton's 
conduct  in  this  connexion.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  one 
more  tribute  to  her  consistency,  one  more  proof  of  the 
theory  I  have  put  forward  in  her  defence,  for  the  excisions 
which  Lady  Burton  made  were  only  those  which  referred 
to  the  subject  which  was  the  theme  of  'The  Scented 
Garden.  Lady  Burton  was  no  prude  :  she  knew  that 
ignorance  is  not  necessarily  innocence.  She  knew  also 
that  her  husband  did  not  write  as  "a  young  lady  to 
young  ladies "  ;  but  she  drew  the  line  at  a  certain 
point,  and  she  drew  it  rigidly.  By  her  husband's  will 

47 


738      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaos  JSurton 

she  had  full  power  to  bring  out  any  editions  she  might 
please  of  'The  Arabian  Nights  or  any  other  book  of  his. 
She  therefore  sanctioned  the  library  edition  with  certain 
excisions,  and  the  reasons  which  prompted  her  to  make 
these  excisions  in  The  Arabian  Nights  were  the  same  as 
those  which  led  her  to  burn  The  Scented  Garden. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE  RETURN  TO  ENGLAND 
(1890—1891) 

Not  yet,  poor  soul  1     A  few  more  darksome  hours 
And  sore  temptations  met  and  overcome, 
A  few  more  crosses  bravely,  meekly  carried, 
Ere  I  can  proudly  call  the  tried  one  home. 
Nerve  then  thy  heart ;  the  toil  will  soon  be  done, 
The  crown  of  self-denial  nobly  earned  and  won. 

From  Ladv  Burton's  Devotional  Book  "  Tan." 

T  ADY  BURTON  remained  at  Trieste  three  months 
i  ^  after  her  husband's  death.  We  have  seen  how 
she  spent  the  first  weeks  of  her  bereavement,  locked 
up  with  his  manuscripts  and  papers.  During  that  time 
she  would  see  no  one,  speak  to  no  one.  When  her 
work  was  done,  all  her  husband's  wishes  as  to  the 
disposal  of  his  private  papers  carried  out,  and  the  manu- 
scripts duly  sorted  and  arranged,  she  came  out  from 
her  seclusion,  and  put  herself  a  little  in  touch  with  the 
world  again.  She  was  deeply  touched  at  the  sympathy 
which  was  shown  to  her.  The  Burtons  had  been  so 
many  years  at  Trieste,  and  were  so  widely  known  there 
and  respected,  that  Sir  Richard's  death  was  felt  as  a 
public  loss.  A  eulogy  of  Sir  Richard  was  delivered 
in  the  Diet  of  Trieste,  and  the  House  adjourned  as  a 

739 


740      TTbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  OLaog  JSurton 

mark  of  respect  to  his  memory.  The  city  had  three 
funeral  requiems  for  him,  and  hundreds  of  people  in 
Trieste,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  showed  their 
sympathy  with  his  widow.  Her  friends  rallied  round 
her,  for  they  knew  that  her  loss  was  no  ordinary  one, 
and  she  had  consigned  to  the  grave  all  that  made  life 
worth  living  for  to  her.  Nor  was  this  sympathetic 
regard  confined  to  Trieste  alone  ;  the  English  press 
was  full  of  the  "dead  lion,"  and  the  dominant  note 
was  that  he  had  not  been  done  justice  to  while  he  was 
alive.  Lady  Burton  was  greatly  gratified  by  all  this, 
and  she  says  a  little  bitterly :  "  It  shows  how  truly  he 
was  appreciated  except  by  the  handful  who  could  have 
made  his  life  happy  by  success." 

Her  first  public  act  after  her  husband's  death  was 
a  defence  of  his  memory.  She  had  fought  so  hard 
for  him  when  living  that  it  seemed  only  natural  to 
her  to  go  on  fighting  for  him  now  that  he  was 
beyond  the  reach  of  praise  or  blame.  Colonel  Grant 
had  written  a  letter  to  'The  Times  anent  an  obituary 
notice  of  Sir  Richard  Burton,  in  which  he  defended 
Speke,  and  spoke  of  the  "  grave  charges "  which 
Speke  communicated  against  Burton  to  his  relatives 
and  to  the  Geographical  Society.  Lady  Burton  saw 
this  letter  some  time  after  it  appeared.  She  knew 
well  enough  what  it  hinted  at,  and  she  lost  no  time 
in  sending  a  reply  wherein  she  defended  her  husband's 
character,  and  prefaced  her  remarks  with  the  charac- 
teristic lines : 

He  had  not  dared  to  do  it, 
Except  he  surely  knew  my  lord  was  dead. 


Ube  TReturn  to  Bnalant)  741 

Lady  Burton  had  soon  to  face,  in  these  first  days 
of  her  widowhood,  the  problem  of  her  altered  cir- 
cumstances. With  her  husband's  death  his  salary  as 
a  Consul  came  to  an  end,  and  there  was  no  pension 
for  his  widow.  For  the  last  three  or  four  years, 
since  they  had  netted  £10,000  by  The  Arabian  Nights, 
the  Burtons  had  been  living  at  the  rate  of  £3,000  — 
£4,000  a  year,  and  had  kept  up  their  palazzo  at  Trieste 
and  a  large  staff  of  servants,  in  addition  to  continually 
travelling  en  prince,  with  all  the  luxuries  of  the  best 
hotels,  servants,  and  a  resident  doctor  who  always 
accompanied  them.  Lady  Burton  had  sanctioned 
this  expenditure  because  she  wished,  as  she  said,  to 
give  her  husband  every  comfort  during  his  declining 
days.  Moreover,  Burton  had  looked  forward  to  The 
Scented  Garden  to  replenish  his  exchequer.  Now  Lady 
Burton  found  herself  face  to  face  with  these  facts  : 
the  whole  of  the  money  of  The  Arabian  Nights  was 
gone,  her  husband's  salary  was  gone,  The  Scented 
Garden  was  gone,  and  there  was  nothing  left  for  her 
but  a  tiny  patrimony.  It  was  therefore  necessary  that 
she  should  rouse  herself  to  a  sense  of  the  position. 
She  did  so  without  delay.  She  determined  as  far  as 
possible  to  carry  out  the  plans  which  she  and  her 
husband  had  made  when  they  were  looking  forward 
to  his  retirement  from  the  Consular  service  ;  that 
is  to  say,  she  determined  to  leave  Trieste,  to  return 
to  London,  take  a  little  flat,  and  occupy  herself 
with  literary  work.  It  was  a  sore  pang  to  her  to 
give  up  the  beautiful  home  on  which  she  had  expended 
so  much  care  and  taste,  and  to  part  with  her  kind 


742      ttbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  %aop  Burton 

friends  at  Trieste,  many  of  whom  she  had  known 
for  eighteen  years.  At  Trieste  she  was  a  personage. 
Every  one  knew  her  and  loved  her.  She  knew  well 
enough  that  when  she  came  back  to  London  after 
such  a  long  absence,  except  by  a  few  faithful  friends, 
she  might  be  forgotten  and  overlooked  in  the  rush 
and  hurry  of  modern  life.  Nevertheless  her  course 
was  plain  ;  she  had  but  one  desire  ;  that  was  to  get 
away  from  Trieste  as  quickly  as  might  be,  take  her 
husband's  remains  with  her,  and  lay  them  to  rest  in 
English  soil,  a  rest  which  she  hoped  to  share  with 
him  before  long. 

After  her  husband's  funeral  at  Trieste,  Lady  Burton's 
first  step  should  have  been  the  dismissal  of  her  house- 
hold, except  one  or  two  servants.  She  did  not  feel 
equal  to  this,  however,  and  difficulties  arose  which  are 
touched  on  in  the  following  letter  : 

"  From  the  time  I  lost  my  all,  my  earthly  god  of 
thirty-five  years,  in  two  hours,  I  have  been  like  one 
with  a  blow  on  the  head.  I  cannot  write  about  him  ; 
I  must  tell  of  myself.  Having  been  eighteen  years  in 
Trieste,  it  was  difficult  to  leave  so  many  dependent  on  me, 
so  many  friends  to  bid  farewell,  so  many  philanthropic 
works  to  wind  up  the  affairs  of,  and  I  had  to  settle 
twenty  rooms  full  of  things  I  could  not  throw  away.  It 
took  me  fourteen  weeks  to  do  it.  During  that  time  I  swam 
in  a  sea  of  small  horrors — wickedness,  treachery,  threats; 
but  my  Triestine  friends  stuck  to  me.  The  authorities 
behaved  nobly,  and  I  pulled  through  and  got  off." l 

1  Letter  to  Madame  de  Gutmansthal-Benvenuti,  from  London, 
March  i,  1891. 


TTbe  TReturn  to  Enolanfc  743 

The  next  few  months  were  busy  ones  for  Lady 
Burton.  It  is  hard  under  any  circumstances  to  break  up 
a  home  of  eighteen  years,  and  harder  still  when  it  has 
to  be  done  as  economically  and  expeditiously  as  possible. 
She  placed  out  all  her  old  and  trusted  servants ;  she 
endeavoured  to  find  friends  to  take  on  the  care  of  many 
of  the  aged  and  poor  people  who  were  more  or  less 
dependent  on  her;  she  wound  up  the  institutions  of 
which  she  was  President ;  she  paid  her  debts,  and  said 
good-bye  to  all  her  friends.  She  refused  to  sell  any 
of  the  furniture  or  effects  of  the  home  she  had  loved 
so  well.  She  said  it  would  be  like  selling  her  friends. 
So  she  packed  the  few  things  she  thought  she  would 
want  to  furnish  her  flat  in  London,  and  all  her 
husband's  and  her  own  personal  effects,  his  library  and 
manuscripts,  and  she  gave  away  the  rest  of  the  furniture 
where  she  thought  it  would  be  useful  or  valued.  These 
duties  occupied  her  fourteen  weeks  in  all,  and  she 
worked  every  day  early  and  late,  the  only  break  in  her 
labours  being  her  frequent  visits  to  the  chapelle  ardente 
where  the  remains  of  her  husband  were  reposing,  pre- 
paratory to  being  carried  to  England.  The  only 
comfort  to  her  in  this  time  of  sorrow  was  a  visit  from 
her  cousin,  Canon  Waterton  of  Carlisle,  a  scholarly  and 
cultured  ecclesiastic,  who,  in  addition  to  providing  her 
with  spiritual  consolation,  also  gave  her  much  valuable 
advice  as  to  the  disposition  of  the  books  and  manu- 
scripts. In  order  to  guard  against  any  misconception, 
however,  I  should  like  to  add  that  Canon  Waterton 
did  not  come  to  Trieste  until  some  time  after  'The 
Scented  Garden  had  been  burned.  That  act,  in  spite  of 


744      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaog  IBurton 

all  that  has  been  said  to  the  contrary,  was  entirely  Lady 
Burton's  own  act,  influenced  by  no  priest,  layman,  or  any 
person  whatever.  She  spoke  of  it  afterwards  as  a 
secret  between  herself  and  the  dead  husband. 

So  this  year  (1890),  the  saddest  in  Lady  Burton's 
life,  came  to  an  end.  On  January  20,  1891,  she 
caused  her  husband's  remains  to  be  removed  from 
the  chapel  and  conveyed  on  board  the  Cunard  steamer 
Talmyra.  She  herself  was  going  to  England  by  the 
quicker  route  overland. 

Her  work  now  being  done,  a  few  days  later  Lady 
Burton  left  Trieste  for  the  last  time.  The  evening 
before  her  departure  twenty  of  her  friends  came  up 
to  spend  the  last  hours  with  her.  She  walked  round 
every  room,  recalling  her  life  in  her  happy  home.  She 
visited  every  nook  and  cranny  of  the  garden  ;  she  sat 
under  the  linden  tree  where  she  and  her  husband  had 
spent  so  many  quiet  hours,  and  she  gazed  at  the 
beautiful  views  for  the  last  time.  This  went  on  till 
the  time  came  for  her  to  leave.  Many  friends  came 
to  accompany  her  to  the  station.  When  she  arrived 
she  found  that  she  had  to  face  quite  a  demonstration. 
All  the  leading  people  in  Trieste  and  the  authorities 
of  the  city,  all  the  children  of  the  orphanage  in 
which  she  had  taken  so  keen  an  interest,  all  the  poor 
whom  she  had  helped,  and  all  her  private  friends,  who 
were  many,  were  there  to  bid  her  good-bye  and  offer 
her  flowers.  She  says  :  "  It  was  an  awful  trial  not  to 
make  an  exhibition  of  myself,  and  I  was  glad  when 
the  train  steamed  out ;  but  for  a  whole  hour,  ascending 
the  beautiful  road  close  to  the  sea  and  Miramar  and 


TReturn  to  England  745 

Trieste,  I  never  took  my  misty  eyes  off  Trieste  and  our 
home  where  I  had  been  so  happy  for  eighteen  years." 

On  arriving  in  England,  Lady  Burton's  first  care  was 
to  go  and  see  Sir  Richard's  sister  and  niece,  Lady  and 
Miss  Stisted,  and  acquaint  them  with  the  circumstances 
of  her  husband's  death,  and  her  intentions.  We  will 
draw  a  veil  over  that  meeting.  She  then  went  on  to 
London  and  stayed  at  the  Langham  Hotel,  intending 
to  remain  there  a  few  days  until  she  could  find  a 
lodging.  At  the  Langham  her  three  sisters  were 
waiting  for  her. 

Two  days  after  her  arrival  in  London,  Lady  Burton 
went  to  see  about  a  monument  to  her  husband.  This 
monument  has  been  already  described,  and  it  is  un- 
necessary to  repeat  the  description  at  any  length  here. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  it  is  a  tomb,  shaped  like  an  Arab 
tent,  of  dark  Forest  of  Dean  stone,  lined  inside  with  white 
Carrara  marble.  The  tent  is  surmounted  by  a  large 
gilt  star,  and  over  the  flap  door  is  a  white  marble  crucifix. 
The  fringe  is  composed  of  gilt  crescents  and  stars.  The 
door  supports  an  open  book  of  white  marble  :  on  one 
page  is  an  inscription  to  Sir  Richard  Burton;  the 
opposite  page  was  then  left  blank.  Lady  Burton  had 
the  tomb  fitted  up  with  an  altar  and  other  accessories,  so 
as  to  make  it  as  much  like  a  chapelle  ardente  as  possible, 
while  preserving  its  Eastern  character.  There  was 
room  in  the  tent  for  two  coffins,  those  of  her  husband 
and  herself.  Finding  that  her  purse  was  too  slender 
to  carry  out  this  somewhat  elaborate  design,  Lady 
Burton  was  encouraged  by  her  friends  to  ask  for  a 
public  subscription,  with  the  result  that  she  received 


746      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaog  JBurton 

the  greater  part  of  the  money,  but  the  appeal  was  not 
responded  to  as  it  might  have  been. 

She  found  that,  owing  to  the  state  of  the  weather, 
the  monument  could  not  be  completed  for  some  months, 
but  she  selected  the  site  in  Mortlake  Cemetery,  the 
spot  which  she  and  her  husband  had  chosen  many 
years  before,  and  had  the  ground  pegged  out.  The 
next  day,  though  very  ill,  she,  with  her  sister  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald,  went  down  to  Liverpool  to  meet  her 
husband's  remains,  which  were  arriving  by  sea.  Lord 
and  Lady  Derby,  who  had  always  been  her  kind  friends, 
had  arranged  everything  for  her,  and  the  next  morning 
Lady  Burton  went  on  board  ship.  She  says,  "  I  forgot 
the  people  when  I  saw  my  beloved  case,  and  I  ran 
forward  to  kiss  it."  It  was  taken  to  the  train,  and 
Lady  Burton  and  her  sister  travelled  by  the  same  train 
to  Mortlake,  where  they  arrived  that  evening.  The 
coffin  was  conveyed  by  torchlight  to  a  temporary 
resting-place  in  the  crypt  under  the  altar  of  the  church, 
where  it  remained  until  the  tent  was  erected.  The 
same  evening  Lady  Burton  returned  to  London,  and, 
her  work  being  done,  the  reaction  set  in.  She  broke 
down  and  took  to  her  bed  that  night,  where  she 
remained  for  many  weeks.  She  says  :  "  I  cannot 
describe  the  horror  of  the  seventy-six  days  enhanced 
by  the  fog,  which,  after  sunlight  and  air,  was  like 
being  buried  alive.  The  sense  of  desolation  and 
loneliness  and  the  longing  for  him  was  cruel,  and  it 
became 

The  custom  of  the  day 

And  the  haunting  of  the  night. 


TCeturn  to  En^lano  747 

My  altered  circumstances,  and  the  looking  into  and 
facing  my  future,  had  also  to  be  borne." 

In  the  meantime  her  friends,  notably  the  Dowager 
Lady  Stanley  of  Alderley,  the  Royal  Geographical  and 
other  Societies,  had  not  been  idle,  and  her  claims  had 
been  brought  before  the  Queen,  who  was  graciously 
pleased  to  grant  Lady  Burton  a  pension  of  ^150  a 
year  from  the  Civil  List.  This  pension,  which  she 
enjoyed  to  the  day  of  her  death,  came  to  her  as  a 
surprise,  and  was  not  due  to  any  effort  of  her  own. 
She  would  never  have  asked  anything  for  herself :  the 
only  thing  she  did  ask  for  was  that  the  nation  should 
help  her  in  raising  a  monument  to  her  husband's 
honour  ;  but,  as  we  have  seen,  the  nation  was  somewhat 
lukewarm  on  that  point. 

At  the  end  of  April  Lady  Burton  recovered  suffi- 
ciently to  leave  the  hotel,  and  joined  her  sister,  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald.  She  was  chiefly  occupied  during  the  next 
few  months  in  looking  out  for  a  house,  and  in  com- 
pleting the  arrangements  for  her  husband's  final  resting- 
place.  About  the  middle  of  June  the  tent  was  finished. 
Sir  Richard  Burton's  remains  were  transferred  from 
the  crypt  under  the  church  to  the  mausoleum  where 
they  now  rest.  At  the  funeral  service  Lady  Burton 
occupied  a  prie-dieu  by  the  side,  and  to  the  right 
was  Captain  St.  George  Burton,  of  the  Black  Watch, 
a  cousin  of  Sir  Richard.  There  was  a  large  gathering 
of  representatives  of  both  families  and  many  friends. 
The  widow  carried  a  little  bunch  of  forget-me-nots, 
which  she  laid  on  the  coffin.  This  simple  offering  of 
love  would  doubtless  have  been  far  more  acceptable  to 


748      Ube  Romance  ot  $sabel  Xaop  JSurton 

the  great  explorer  than  the  "  wreath  from  Royalty  " 
the  absence  of  which  his  latest  biographer  so  loudly 
deplores. 

When  the  ceremony  was  over,  Lady  Burton  went  away 
at  once  to  the  country  for  a  ten  days'  rest  to  the  Convent 
of  the  Canonesses  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  New  Hall, 
Chelmsford,  where  she  had  been  educated,  and  which 
had  received  within  its  walls  many  of  the  Arundells  of 
Wardour.  She  left  New  Hall  much  refreshed  and 
invigorated  in  mind  and  body,  and  for  the  next  month 
was  busy  arranging  a  house  which  she  had  taken  in 
Baker  Street.  She  moved  into  it  in  September,  1891, 
and  «"~  entered  upon  the  last  chapter  of  her  life. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   TINKLING  OF  THE  CAMEL'S  BELL 

(1891—1896) 

Friends  of  my  youth,  a  last  adieu  I  haply  some  day  we  meet  again  ; 

Yet  ne'er  the  self-same  men  shall  meet;  the  years  shall  make  us  other  men: 

The  light  of  morn  has  grown  to  noon,  has  paled  with  eve,  and  now  farewell  1 
Go,  vanish  from  my  Life  as  dies  the  tinkling  of  the  Camel's  bell 

RICHARD  BURTON  (The  Kasidah). 

r  I  ^HE  next  rew  months  Lady  Burton  mainly  occu- 
JL  pied  herself  by  arranging  in  her  new  house  the 
things  which  she  had  brought  with  her  from  Trieste. 
When  all  was  finished,  her  modest  quarters  in  Baker 
Street  were  curiously  characteristic  of  the  woman. 
Like  many  of  the  houses  in  her  beloved  Damascus, 
the  one  in  Baker  Street  was  unpretentious,  not  to  say 
unprepossessing,  when  viewed  from  without,  but  within 
totally  different,  for  Lady  Burton  had  managed  to 
give  it  an  oriental  air,  and  to  catch  something  of  the 
warmth  and  colouring  of  the  East.  This  was  especially 
true  of  her  little  drawing-room,  which  had  quite  an 
oriental  aspect.  Eastern  curtains  veiled  the  windows, 
the  floor  was  piled  with  Persian  carpets,  and  a  wide 
divan  heaped  with  cushions  and  draped  with  bright 
Bedawin  rugs  ran  along  one  side  of  the  room.  There 

749 


75°      tTbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

were  narghilehs  and  chibouques,  and  cups  of  filigree  and 
porcelain  for  the  dispensing  of  delectable  Arab  coffee. 
Quaint  brackets  of  Morocco  work,  Eastern  pictures, 
portraits,  Persian  enamels,  and  curios  of  every  description 
covered  the  walls.  The  most  striking  object  in  the  room 
was  a  life-size  portrait  of  Sir  Richard  Burton,  dressed  in 
white,  with  a  scarlet  cummerbund,  flanked  on  either  side 
by  a  collection  of  rare  books,  most  of  them  his  works. 
Many  other  relics  of  him  were  scattered  about  the  room  ; 
and  all  over  the  house  were  to  be  found  his  books  and 
pictures,  and  busts  of  him.  In  fact,  she  made  a  cult  ot 
her  husband's  memory,  and  there  were  enough  relics 
of  him  in  the  house  to  fill  a  little  museum. 

In  this  house  Lady  Burton  settled  down  with  her 
sister,  Mrs.  Fitzgerald,  to  her  daily  life  in  England, 
which  was  mostly  a  record  of  work — arduous  and  un- 
ceasing work,  which  began  at  10.30  in  the  morning, 
and  lasted  till  6.30  at  night.  Sometimes,  indeed,  she 
would  work  much  later,  far  on  into  the  night,  and 
generally  in  the  morning  she  would  do  a  certain  amount 
of  work  before  breakfast,  for  the  old  habit  of  early 
rising  clung  to  her  still,  and  until  her  death  she  never 
broke  herself  of  the  custom  of  waking  at  five  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  At  the  top  of  her  Baker  Street  house 
Lady  Burton  built  out  a  large  room,  or  rather  loft. 
It  was  here  she  housed  her  husband's  manuscripts, 
which  she  knew,  as  she  used  to  say,  "  as  a  shepherd 
knew  his  sheep."  They  lined  three  sides  of  the  room, 
and  filled  many  packing-cases  on  the  floor.  To  this 
place  she  was  wont  to  repair  daily,  ascending  a  tortuous 
staircase,  and  finally  getting  into  the  loft  by  means  of 


Ube  Trtnfelfn0  of  tbe  Camel's  JSell         75 « 

a  ladder.  Later  she  had  to  abandon  this  steep  ascent, 
but  so  long  as  it  was  possible  she  scaled  the  ladder 
daily,  and  would  sit  on  a  packing-case  surrounded  by 
her  beloved  manuscripts  for  hours  together. 

Lady  Burton  was  scarcely  settled  in  Baker  Street 
before  her  sister  (the  one  next  to  her  in  age),  Mrs. 
Smyth  Pigott,  of  Brockley  Court,  Somerset,  died. 
She  had  to  go  down  to  Weston-super-Mare  for  the 
funeral.  When  that  was  over  she  came  back  to  Baker 
Street,  where  she  remained  over  Christmas.  She  wrote 
to  a  friend  of  hers  about  this  time  : 

"  I  dream  always  of  my  books  and  the  pile  of  work. 
I  am  worrying  on  as  well  as  I  can  with  my  miscel- 
laneous writing.  Fogs  have  kept  us  in  black  darkness 
and  pea-soup  thickness  for  five  days  without  a  lift,  and 
with  smarting  eyes  and  compressed  head  I  have  double 
work  at  heart.  I  passed  Christmas  night  in  the 
Convent  of  the  Holy  Souls.  I  went  in  my  cab — the 
streets  were  one  sheet  of  ice — and  two  flambeaux  on 
each  side.  In  Regent's  Park  the  fog  was  black  and 
thick.  We  had  communion  and  three  masses  at  mid- 
night. It  was  too  lovely  :  in  the  dead  silence  a  little 
before  midnight  you  heard  the  shepherd's  pipe,  or  reed, 
in  the  distance,  and  echo  nearer  and  nearer,  and  then 
the  soft,  clear  voices  burst  into  *  Glory  be  to  God  in 
the  Highest,'  and  this  was  the  refrain  all  through  the 
service.  I  passed  the  time  with  our  Lord  and  my 
darling,  who  had  many  masses  said  for  him  in  London 
and  all  over  England  that  night.  I  am  better  and  have 
stronger  nerves,  and  am  perhaps  more  peaceful." l 
1  Letter  to  Miss  Bishop,  December  27,  1891. 


75 2      ftbe  Romance  of  Isabel  Xa£>£  JSurton 

In  January,  1892,  Lady  Burton  went  down  to  her 
cottage  at  Mortlake,  which  she  called  "  Our  Cottage." 
In  taking  this  house  she  had  followed  the  plan  which 
her  husband  when  living  had  always  adopted,  of  having 
a  retreat  a  little  way  from  their  work,  where  they 
could  go  occasionally  for  rest  and  change.  They  had 
intended  to  follow  this  plan  when  they  settled  down 
in  London.  Another  motive  drew  Lady  Burton  to 
Mortlake  too  :  this  cottage  was  close  to  the  mausoleum 
of  her  husband,  and  she  could  visit  it  when  she  chose. 
It  was  a  tiny  cottage,  plainly  but  prettily  furnished. 
Most  of  her  relics  and  curios  were  housed  at  Baker 
Street,  and  this  place  had  few  associations  for  her 
beyond  those  which  connected  it  with  her  husband's 
grave.  The  cottage  was  covered  with  creepers  outside, 
and  trees  grew  all  round  it.  She  had  a  charming  little 
garden  at  the  back,  in  which  she  took  a  good  deal  of 
pride  ;  and  when  the  summer  came  she  had  a  big  tent 
erected  in  the  garden,  and  would  sit  there  for  many 
hours  together,  doing  her  work  and  frequently  taking 
her  meals  out  there.  She  had  always  lived  an  outdoor 
life,  and  this  tent  recalled  to  her  the  days  in  the  East. 
Here,  too,  she  received  a  great  many  friends  who  found 
their  way  down  to  Mortlake  ;  she  was  fond  of  asking 
them  to  come  and  take  tea  with  her  in  her  tent.  From 
this  arose  a  silly  rumour,  which  I  mention  only  to 
contradict,  that  Lady  Burton  was  in  the  habit  of 
receiving  her  visitors  in  her  husband's  tomb,  which, 
as  we  have  seen,  was  also  fashioned  like  an  Arab  tent, 
though  of  stone. 

Lady  Burton  stayed  down  at  Mortlake  for  a  few 


Uinfclina  of  tbe  Camel's  JSell         753 

months,  and  came  back  to  Baker  Street  in  March,  1892, 
where  she  remained  for  two  or  three  months. 

For  the  first  year  or  her  life  in  England  she  lived 
like  a  recluse,  never  going  out  anywhere  except  on 
business  or  to  church,  never  accepting  an  invitation  or 
paying  visits  ;  but  about  this  time  she  gradually  came 
out  of  her  seclusion,  and  began  to  collect  around  her 
a  small  circle  of  near  relatives  and  friends.  Always 
fond  of  society,  though  she  had  now  abjured  it  in  a 
general  sense,  she  could  not  live  alone,  so  in  addition 
to  the  companionship  of  her  favourite  sister  Mrs. 
Fitzgerald,  who  lived  with  her  and  shared  all  her 
thoughts,  she  widened  her  circle  a  little  and  received 
a  few  friends.  She  was  fond  of  entertaining,  and  gave 
many  little  informal  gatherings,  which  were  memorable 
from  the  grace  and  charm  of  the  hostess.  Lady  Burton 
was  always  a  picturesque  and  fascinating  personality, 
but  never  more  so  than  in  these  last  years  of  her  life. 
She  possessed  a  fine  and  handsome  presence,  which  was 
rendered  even  more  effective  by  her  plain  black  dress 
and  widow's  cap,  with  its  long  white  veil  which  formed 
an  effective  background  to  her  finely  cut  features. 
She  reminded  me  of  some  of  the  pictures  one  sees 
of  Mary  Stuart.  I  do  not  think  the  resemblance 
ceased  altogether  with  her  personal  appearance,  for 
her  manners  were  always  queenly  and  gracious  ;  and 
when  she  became  interested  in  anything,  her  face 
would  light  up  and  her  blue  eyes  would  brighten,  and 
one  could  see  something  of  the  courage  and  spirit 
which  she  shared  in  common  with  the  ill-fated  queen. 
She  was  a  most  accomplished  woman  and  a  clever 

<8 


754      Ube  Ktomance  of  Isabel  Xafcg  JSurton 

linguist.  She  could  write  and  speak  fluently  French, 
Italian,  Arabic,  and  Portuguese.  German  she  knew 
also,  though  not  so  well,  and  she  had  more  than  a 
smattering  of  Yiddish.  She  was  well-read  in  the  litera- 
ture of  all  these  (save  Yiddish,  of  course),  yet  never 
was  a  woman  less  of  a  "  blue-stocking."  She  was 
a  brilliant  talker,  full  of  wit  and  charm  in  her  con- 
versation, and  there  was  nothing  she  liked  better  than 
to  relate,  in  her  inimitable  way,  some  of  her  many 
adventures  in  the  past.  In  fact,  though  singularly 
well-informed  on  all  the  current  questions  of  the  hour, 
one  could  see  that  her  heart  was  ever  in  the  past,  and  her 
thoughts  seldom  strayed  far  from  her  husband.  Thus 
it  came  about,  after  his  death  as  in  his  life,  she  devoted 
herself  wholly  to  glorifying  his  name,  and  I  do  not 
think  it  is  any  disparagement  to  Sir  Richard  Burton 
to  say  that  his  personality  would  never  have  impressed 
itself  upon  the  public  imagination  in  the  way  it  did,  if 
it  had  not  been  for  the  efforts  of  his  wife. 

In  the  summer  of  this  year  Lady  Burton  went  to 
Ventnor,  and  also  paid  a  few  visits,  and  in  the  autumn 
she  stayed  at  Ascot  with  her  sister  Mrs.  Van  Zeller, 
whose  husband  had  just  died.  In  November  she  went 
to  Mortlake,  where  she  settled  down  in  earnest  to 
write  the  biography  of  her  husband,  a  work  which 
occupied  her  eight  months.  When  once  she  began, 
she  worked  at  it  morning,  noon,  and  night,  from  early 
till  late,  and  except  for  a  flying  visit  to  Baker  Street 
for  Christmas,  she  never  ceased  her  labours  until  the 
book  was  finished  at  the  end  of  March,  1893.  She 
wrote  to  a  friend  at  this  time  : 


TCbe  ttfnfelfna  of  tbe  Camel's  Bell          755 

"I  finished  the  book  last  night,  and  have  never 
left  Mortlake.  It  has  taken  me  eight  months.  I  hope 
it  will  be  out  the  end  of  May.  I  do  not  know  if  I 
can  harden  my  heart  against  the  curs,1  but  I  can  put 
out  my  tongue  and  point  my  pen  and  play  pussy  cat 
about  their  eyes  and  ears.  I  am  to  have  six  months' 
rest,  but  you  know  what  that  means." 2 

Lady  Burton  received  a  substantial  sum  from  the 
publishers  for  the  book,  and  it  was  published  in  May. 
The  success  which  it  achieved  was  immediate  and  un- 
qualified, and,  what  is  more,  deserved,  for  with  all  its 
faults  it  is  a  great  book — the  last  great  work  in  the 
life  of  the  woman  who  never  thought  of  self,  and  her 
supreme  achievement  to  raise  aloft  her  husband's  name. 
Its  success  was  very  grateful  to  Lady  Burton's  heart, 
not  on  her  own  account,  but  her  husband's ;  in  fact,  it 
may  be  said  to  have  gilded  with  brightness  the  last 
years  of  her  life.  She  felt  now  that  her  work  was 
done  and  that  nothing  remained.  She  wrote  to  a 
friend  early  in  the  New  Year  (i894)8: 

"I  have  had  my  head  quite  turned  by  the  great 
success  of  my  book.  First  came  about  a  hundred 
half-nasty,  or  wholly  nasty,  critiques ;  then  the  book 
made  its  way.  I  had  three  leading  articles,  over  a 
thousand  charming  reviews,  and  have  been  inundated 
with  the  loveliest  letters  and  invitations.  .  .  .  With 
my  earnings  I  am  embellishing  his  mausoleum,  and  am 
putting  up  in  honour  of  his  poem,  Kasidah,  festoons 

1  Burton's  enemies. 

*  Letter  to  Miss  Bishop  from  .Mortlake,  March  25,  189,5. 

*  Letter  to  Madame  de  Gutmansthal-Benvenuti,  January  10,  1894. 


756      ^be  Romance  of  Isabel  OLafcg  JSurton 

of  camel  bells  from  the  desert,  in  the  roof  of  the  tent 
where  he  lies,  so  that  when  I  open  or  shut  the  door,  or 
at  the  elevation  of  the  Mass,  the  *  tinkling  of  the 
camel  bell'  will  sound  just  as  it  does  in  the  desert. 
On  January  22  I  am  going  down  to  pass  the  day  in 
it,  because  it  is  my  thirty-third  wedding  day,  and  the 
bells  will  ring  for  the  first  time.  I  am  also  carrying 
out  all  his  favourite  projects,  and  bringing  out  by 
degrees  all  his  works  hitherto  published  or  unpublished, 
as  of  the  former  only  small  quantities  were  published, 
and  these  are  mostly  extinct.  If  God  gives  me  two 
years,  I  shall  be  content.  I  live  in  my  little  chaumiere 
near  the  mausoleum  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames  for 
the  six  good  months  of  the  year,  and  in  my  warm 
dry  home  in  London  six  bad  months,  with  my 
sister.  You  cannot  think  how  the  picture  of  Richard 
by  you  was  admired  at  the  Grosvenor  Gallery,  and  I 
put  your  name  over  it.  I  have  now  got  it  home  again, 
and  I  thought  he  smiled  as  I  brought  him  back  in  the 
cab  for  joy  to  get  home.  .  .  .  There  is  a  great  wax- 
work exhibition  in  England  which  is  very  beautifully 
done  (Tussaud's).  They  have  now  put  Richard  in  the 
Meccan  dress  he  wore  in  the  desert.  They  have  given 
him  a  large  space  with  sand,  water,  palms,  and  three 
camels,  and  a  domed  skylight,  painted  yellow,  throws  a 
lurid  light  on  the  scene.  It  is  quite  life-like.  I  gave 
them  the  real  clothes  and  the  real  weapons,  and  dressed 
him  myself.  When  it  was  offered  to  him  during  his 
life,  his  face  beamed,  and  he  said,  'That  will  bring 
me  in  contact  with  the  people.' ' 

The  other  works  of  Sir  Richard's  which  Lady  Burton 


TCinfeling  of  tbe  Camel's  3BeU         757 

brought  out  after  the  Life  of  her  husband  included 
11  Pentamerone  and  Catullus.  She  also  arranged  for  a 
new  edition  of  his  Arabian  Nights,  and  she  began 
what  she  called  the  "  Memorial  Library,"  which  was 
mainly  composed  of  the  republication  of  half- forgotten 
books  which  he  had  written  in  the  days  before  he 
became  famous.  She  also  recalled,  at  great  pecuniary 
sacrifice  to  herself,  another  work  which  she  thought 
was  doing  harm  to  his  memory,  and  destroyed  the 
copies. 

Upon  the  publication  of  the  Life  of  her  husband, 
Lady  Burton  was  overwhelmed  with  letters  from  old 
acquaintances  who  had  half-forgotten  her,  from  tried 
and  trusted  friends  of  her  husband  and  herself,  and 
from  people  whom  she  had  never  known,  but  who 
were  struck  by  the  magnitude  of  her  self-sacrificing 
love.  All  these  letters  were  pleasant.  But  she  also 
received  a  number  of  letters  of  a  very  doubtful  nature, 
which  included  begging  letters  and  applications  request- 
ing to  see  her  from  quacks  and  charlatans  of  different 
kinds,  who  by  professing  great  admiration  for  her 
husband,  and  veneration  for  his  memory,  thought  they 
would  find  in  Lady  Burton  an  easy  prey.  In  this 
they  were  mistaken.  Although  generous  and  open- 
hearted  as  the  day,  she  always  found  out  charlatans  in 
the  long  run.  She  used  to  say  she  "  liked  to  give  them 
rope  enough."  Unfortunately,  though,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  Lady  Burton  had  the  defects  of  her 
qualities.  Absolutely  truthful  herself,  she  was  the  last 
in  the  world  to  suspect  double-dealing  in  others,  and 
the  result  was  that  she  sometimes  misplaced  her  con- 


758      Ube  Romance  of  Ssabel  Xaop  JSurton 

fidence,  and  put  her  trust  in  the  wrong  people.  This 
led  her  into  difficulties  which  she  would  otherwise  have 
avoided. 

The  publication  of  the  Life  of  her  husband  seemed 
also  to  arouse  a  number  of  dormant  animosities,  and 
it  led,  among  other  things,  to  a  large  increase  in  the 
number  of  abusive  and  insulting  letters  which  she 
received  from  anonymous  writers,  chiefly  with  regard 
to  her  burning  of  'The  Scented  Garden.  They  gave 
her  great  pain  and  annoyance.  But  many  approved 
of  her  action,  and  among  others  who  wrote  to  her 
a  generous  letter  of  sympathy  was  Lady  Guendolen 
Ramsden,  the  daughter  of  her  old  friends  the  Duke 
and  Duchess  of  Somerset.  I  give  Lady  Burton's 
reply  because  it  shows  how  much  she  appreciated  the 
kindness  of  her  friends : 

"  October  31,  1893. 
"  MY  DEAR  LADY  GUENDOLEN, 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  what  pleasure  your  very 
kind  letter  gave  me.  I  feared  that  you  and  all  your 
family  had  forgotten  me  long  ago.  I  was,  and  so  was 
Richard,  very  much  attached  to  the  Duke  and  Duchess  ; 
they  always  made  us  welcome,  they  always  made  us 
feel  at  home.  I  delighted  in  the  Duke — so  clever,  so 
fascinating,  and  he  was  my  beau  ideal  of  a  gentleman 
of  the  Old  School,  whilst  the  kindness  of  heart,  the 
high  breeding,  and  the  wit  of  the  Duchess  attached 
us  both  greatly  to  her.  You  were  such  a  very  young 
girl  that  I  knew  you  the  least,  and  yet  you  are  the 
one  to  be  kind  to  me  now.  The  ones  I  knew  best 


Ube  TTinfeltna  of  tbe  Camel's  JSell         759 

were  poor  Lord  St.  Maur  and  Lady  Ulrica.  Let  me 
now  thank  you  for  speaking  so  truly  and  handsomely 
of  my  dear  husband,  and  your  kindness  and  sympathy 
with  me  and  my  work.  It  is  quite  true  !  If  you 
knew  what  a  small  section  of  people  have  made  me 
suffer,  and  the  horrible  letters  that  they  have  written 
me,  you  would  feel  sorry  to  think  that  there  were 
such  people  in  the  world,  and  when  I  reflect  that  it 
was  that  class  of  people  who  would  have  received  the 
manuscript  with  joy,  I  know  how  right  I  was  to  burn 
it.  It  was  not  the  learned  people,  as  you  imagine,  who 
regret  this,  because  there  was  no  learning  to  be  gained 
in  it.  My  dear  husband  did  it  simply  to  fill  our  purse 
again.  The  people  who  were  angry  were  the  people 
who  loathe  good,  and  seek  for  nothing  but  that  class 
of  literature.  My  husband  had  no  vicious  motive  in 
writing  it ;  he  dissected  these  things  as  a  doctor  would 
a  body.  I  was  calculating  what  effect  it  would  have 
on  the  mass  of  uneducated  people  who  might  read  it. 
I  did  receive  many  beautiful  letters  on  the  subject,  and 
the  papers  have  more  or  less  never  let  me  drop,  but 
often  much  blame.  I  was  so  astonished  to  find  myself 
either  praised  or  blamed ;  it  seemed  to  me  the  natural 
thing  for  a  woman  to  do  ;  but  I  see  now  how  mistaken 
I  was  to  have  confessed  it,  and  to  imagine  it  was  my 
duty  to  confess,  which  I  certainly  did.  I  know  that 
he,  being  dead,  would  not  have  wished  it  published  ; 
if  so,  why  did  he  leave  it  to  me?  .  .  .  You  are  quite 
right ;  it  has  pleased  me  more  than  I  can  say  that  you 
should  approve  and  confirm  my  ideas,  and  I  am  so 
thankful  that  the  Life  has  succeeded.  I  got  my 


760      Ube  "Romance  of  Isabel  Xaos  JSurton 


best  reward  in  a  review  which  said  that  *  Richard 
Burton's  widow  might  comfort  herself,  as  England  now 
knew  the  man  inside  and  out,  that  she  had  lifted  every 
cloud  from  his  memory,  and  his  fame  would  shine  as 
a  beacon  in  all  future  ages.'  I  remember  so  well  the 
party  at  Lady  Margaret  Beaumont's.  I  can  shut  my 
eyes  and  see  the  whole  dinner-table  ;  we  were  twenty- 
five  in  party.  And  I  remember  well  also  the  party  at 
Bulstrode.  If  I  am  alive  in  the  summer,  I  shall  be 
only  too  glad  to  pass  a  few  days  with  you  at  Bulstrode, 
if  you  will  let  me.  I  feel  that  a  talk  to  you  would 
carry  me  back  to  my  happy  days. 

'*  Believe  me,  with  warmest  thanks, 
"  Yours  sincerely, 

"ISABEL  BURTON." 

After  the  publication  of  the  Life  of  her  husband 
Lady  Burton  spent  most  of  her  time  at  Baker  Street, 
with  intervals  at  Mortlake,  and  a  few  visits  to 
friends,  including  Lady  Windsor,  Lord  Arundell  of 
Wardour,  Lady  Guendolen  Ramsden  at  Bulstrode, 
and  Canon  Waterton  at  Carlisle.  The  year  which 
followed  (1894)  may  be  said  to  have  been  her  last 
active  year,  and  it  was  the  pleasantest  year  of  her 
life  in  England.  The  success  which  had  attended  her 
book  had  brought  her  more  into  contact  with  the 
world  than  she  had  been  at  any  time  since  her  husband's 
death,  and  she  saw  that  there  was  a  field  of  usefulness 
still  before  her.  This  was  the  year  in  which  she  saw 
most  friends,  entertained  most,  and  went  about  most. 
Her  health,  never  good,  seemed  to  rally,  and  she  was 


Ube  Uinfclina  of  tbe  Camel's  SSell         761 

far  less  nervous  than  usual.  She  may  be  said  about 
this  time  to  have  taken  almost  to  literature  as  a  pro- 
fession, for  she  worked  at  it  eight  hours  every  day,  in 
addition  to  keeping  up  a  large  correspondence,  chiefly 
on  literary  and  business  matters.  She  went  frequently 
to  the  play,  got  all  the  new  books,  and  kept  herself 
well  in  touch  with  the  current  thought  of  the  day. 
She  was  not  in  sympathy  with  a  good  deal  of  it,  and 
her  way  of  expressing  her  opinions  was  delightfully 
frank  and  original.  Despite  her  abiding  sense  of  her 
loss,  there  was  nothing  morbid  about  Lady  Burton. 
She  was  bright  and  cheerful,  full  of  interest  in  things, 
and  perfectly  happy  in  the  society  of  her  dearly  loved 
sister. 

I  think  that  here  one  might  mention  a  few  character- 
istics of  Lady  Burton.  She  was  always  very  generous, 
but  her  generosity  was  not  of  the  kind  which  would 
commend  itself  to  the  Charity  Organization  Society. 
For  instance,  she  had  an  incurable  propensity  of  giving 
away  to  beggars  in  the  street.  She  never  let  one  go. 
The  result  was  that  she  frequently  returned  home  with 
an  empty  purse ;  indeed,  so  aware  was  she  of  her 
weakness,  she  took  out  little  money  with  her  as  a  rule, 
so  that  she  might  not  be  tempted  too  far.  When 
people  remonstrated  with  her  on  this  indiscriminate 
almsgiving,  she  used  to  say,  "  I  would  rather  give  to 
ten  rogues  than  turn  one  honest  man  away  ;  I  should 
be  amply  repaid  if  there  were  one  fairly  good  one 
amongst  them."  She  was  very  fond  of  children — that 
is,  en  bloc\  but  she  did  not  care  to  be  troubled  with 
them  at  too  close  quarters.  She  often  took  out  the 


762      Ube  IRomance  of  Isabel  Xaop  Burton 

poor  children  of  the  Roman  Catholic  schools  to  treats 
on  Wimbledon  Common.  She  would  hire  drags,  and 
go  up  there  for  the  afternoon  with  them.  She  never 
forgot  them  at  Christmas,  and  she  would  always  set 
aside  a  day  or  two  for  buying  them  toys.  Her 
way  of  doing  this  was  somewhat  peculiar.  She  had 
been  so  used  to  buying  things  of  itinerant  vendors 
in  the  streets  abroad  that  she  could  not  break  herself 
of  the  habit  in  England.  So,  instead  of  going  to  a 
toy  shop,  she  used  to  take  a  four-wheel  cab,  and  drive 
slowly  down  Oxford  Street  and  Regent  Street ;  and 
whenever  she  came  across  a  pedlar  with  toys  on  a 
tray,  she  would  pull  up  her  cab  and  make  her  pur- 
chases. These  purchases  generally  took  a  good  deal 
of  time,  for  Lady  Burton  had  been  so  much  in  the 
habit  of  dealing  at  bazars  in  the  East  that  she 
was  always  under  the  impression  that  the  pedlars  in 
England  asked  double  or  treble  what  they  really 
thought  they  would  get.  The  result  was  a  good 
deal  of  bargaining  between  her  and  the  vendors. 
She  used  to  make  wholesale  purchases  ;  and  during 
her  bargaining,  which  was  carried  on  with  much 
animation,  a  crowd  assembled,  and  not  infrequently 
the  younger  members  of  it  came  in  for  a  share  of 
the  spoils. 

To  the  day  of  her  death  she  always  felt  strongly 
on  the  subject  of  the  prevention  of  cruelty  to  animals, 
and  indeed  engaged  in  a  fierce  controversy  with 
Father  Vaughan  on  the  subject  of  vivisection.  She 
was  never  tired  of  denouncing  the  "  barbarism  of 
bearing-reins,"  and  so  forth.  When  she  went  out  in 


UtnfcUna  of  tbe  Camera  JSell         763 

a  cab,  she  invariably  inspected  the  horse  carefully  first, 
to  see  if  it  looked  well  fed  and  cared  for  ;  if  not,  she 
discharged  the  cab  and  got  another  one,  and  she  would 
always  impress  upon  the  driver  that  he  must  not 
beat  his  horse  under  any  consideration  when  he  was 
driving  her.  She  would  then  get  into  the  cab,  let  the 
window  down,  and  keep  a  watch.  If  the  driver  forgot 
himself  so  far  as  to  give  a  flick  with  his  whip,  Lady 
Burton  would  lunge  at  him  with  her  umbrella  from 
behind.  Upon  the  cabby  remonstrating  at  this  un- 
looked-for attack,  she  would  retort,  "Yes,  and  how 
do  you  like  it  ?  "  On  one  occasion  though  she  was 
not  consistent.  She  took  a  cab  with  her  sister  from 
Charing  Cross  Station,  and  was  in  a  great  hurry  to 
get  home.  Of  course  she  impressed  as  usual  upon 
the  Jehu  that  he  was  not  to  beat  his  horse.  The 
horse,  which  was  a  wretched  old  screw,  refused,  in 
consequence,  to  go  at  more  than  a  walking  pace  ;  and 
as  Lady  Burton  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  back,  and  was 
fuming  with  impatience  inside,  she  at  last  forgot  her- 
self so  far  as  to  put  her  head  out  of  the  window  and 
cry  to  the  driver,  "  Why  don't  you  beat  him  ?  Why 
don't  you  make  him  go  ? " 

In  politics  Lady  Burton  described  herself  as  a  pro- 
gressive Conservative,  which,  being  interpreted,  would 
seem  to  signify  that,  though  she  was  intensely  con- 
servative with  regard  to  the  things  which  she  had  at 
heart,  such  as  religion  and  the  importance  of  upholding 
the  old  regime,  she  was  exceedingly  progressive  in 
smaller  matters.  Her  views  on  social  questions  especi- 
ally were  remarkably  broad,  and  it  may  safely  be  said 


764      Ube  TRomance  of  Isabel  Xafcg  JSurton 

that  there  never  was  a  woman  who  had  less  narrowness 
or  bigotry  in  her  composition.  She  was  fond  of  saying, 
"  Let  us  hear  all  sides  of  the  question,  for  that  is  the 
only  way  in  which  we  can  hope  to  arrive  at  the  truth." 
I  should  like  to  add  a  few  words  as  to  her  spiritual 
life,  because  it  entered  so  profoundly  into  all  that  she 
said  and  did,  that  no  record  of  her  would  be  complete 
which  ignored  it.  We  have  seen  how  in  every  crisis 
of  her  life,  through  all  her  perils,  trials,  and  difficulties, 
she  turned  instinctively  to  that  Source  where  many 
look  for  strength  and  some  find  it.  Lady  Burton  was 
one  of  those  who  found  it :  though  all  else  might  fail 
her,  this  consolation  never  failed.  In  her  fervent  faith 
is  to  be  found  the  occult  force  which  enabled  her  to 
dare  all  things,  hope  all  things,  endure  all  things. 
We  may  agree  with  her  religious  views  or  not,  but 
we  are  compelled  to  admit  their  power  to  sustain  her 
through  life's  battle.  The  secret  of  her  strength  was 
this  :  to  her  the  things  spiritual  and  invisible — which 
to  many  of  us  are  unreal,  however  loudly  we  may 
profess  our  belief  in  them — were  living  realities.  It  is 
difficult  for  some  ot  us  perhaps,  in  this  material,  sceptical 
world  of  ours,  to  realize  a  nature  like  hers.  Yet  there 
are  many  such,  and  they  form  the  strongest  proof  of 
the  living  force  of  Christianity  to-day.  "Transcen- 
dental," the  world  remarks,  with  a  sneer.  But  who  is 
there  among  us  who  would  not,  an  he  could,  exchange 
uncertainty  and  unrest  for  the  possession  of  a  peace 
which  the  world  cannot  give  ?  There  are  some  natures 
who  can  believe,  who  can  look  forward  to  a  prize 
so  great  and  wonderful  as  to  hold  the  pain  and  trouble 


Uiuhlmo  of  tbe  Camera  3Bell          765 

of  the  race  of  very  small  account  when  weighed 
against  the  hope  of  victory.  Lady  Burton  was  one  of 
these  ;  she  had  her  feet  firm  set  upon  the  everlasting 
Rock.  The  teaching  of  her  Church  was  to  her  divinest 
truth.  The  supernatural  was  real,  the  spiritual  actual. 
The  conflict  between  the  powers  of  light  and  the 
powers  of  darkness,  between  good  angels  and  evil 
angels,  between  benign  influences  and  malefic  forces, 
was  no  figure  of  speech  with  her,  but  a  reality.  In 
these  last  years  of  her  life  more  especially  the  earthly 
veil  seemed  to  have  fallen  from  her  eyes.  She  seemed 
to  have  grasped  something  of  the  vision  of  the  servant 
of  Elisha,  for  whom  the  prophet  prayed :  "  Lord,  I  pray 
'Thee,  open  his  eyes,  that  he  may  see.  And  the  Lord  opened 
the  eyes  of  the  young  man ;  and  he  saw :  and,  behold,  the 
mountain  was  full  of  horses  and  chariots  of  fire  round 
about  Elisha" 

Because  of  all  this,  because  her  religion  was  such  an 
actuality  to  her,  is,  I  think,  due  half  the  misunder- 
standings which  have  arisen  with  regard  to  Lady 
Burton's  attitude  towards  so-called  "  spiritualism." 
She  always  held  that  Catholicism  was  the  highest  form 
of  spiritualism — using  the  word  in  its  highest  meaning 
— and  from  this  attitude  she  never  wavered.  She 
had  lived  much  in  the  East,  and  had  come  much  into 
contact  with  oriental  occult  influences,  but  what  she 
saw  only  served  to  convince  her  more  of  the  truths 
of  her  religion.  Lady  Burton  was  a  Christian  mystic, 
not  in  the  vulgar  sense  of  the  word,  but  only  in  the 
sense  that  many  devout  and  religious  women  have 
been  Christian  mystics  too.  Like  Saint  Catherine  of 


766      Ube  IRomance  of  Ssabel  Xafcp  JSurton 

Sienna,  Saint  Teresa,  and  other  holy  women,  she  was 
specially  attracted  to  the  spiritual  and  devotional  aspect 
of  the  Catholic  Faith.  Neither  did  her  devotion  to 
the  spiritual  element  unfit  her  for  the  practical  side 
of  things  :  quite  the  contrary.  Like  Saint  Teresa,  side 
by  side  with  her  religious  life,  she  was  a  remarkably 
shrewd  woman  of  business.  It  need  scarcely  be  added 
that  between  so-called  "  spiritualism  "  as  practised  in 
England  and  the  Catholicism  of  Lady  Burton  there 
was  a  great  gulf  fixed,  and  one  which  she  proved  to  be 
unbridgable.  This  lower  form  of  spiritualism,  to  use 
her  own  words,  "  can  only  act  as  a  decoy  to  a  crowd 
of  sensation-seekers,  who  yearn  to  see  a  ghost  as  they 
would  go  to  see  a  pantomime."  Such  things  she  con- 
sidered, when  not  absolutely  farcical,  worked  for  evil, 
and  not  for  good.  As  she  wrote  to  a  friend  : 

"  That  faculty  you  have  about  the  spirits,  though 
you  may  ignore  it,  is  the  cause -of  your  constant  mis- 
fortunes. I  have  great  experience  and  knowledge  in 
these  matters.  As  soon  as  you  are  happy  these  demons 
of  envy,  spite,  and  malicious  intention  attack  you  for 
evil  ends,  and  ruin  your  happiness  to  get  hold  of  your 
body  and  soul.  Never  practise  or  interest  yourself  in 
these  matters,  and  debar  them  from  your  house  by 
prayer  and  absolute  non-hearing  or  seeing  them.  .  .  . 
Do  not  treat  my  words  lightly,  because  I  have  had 
experience  of  it  myself,  and  I  had  untold  misfortune 
until  I  did  as  I  advise  you.  The  more  God  loves  you, 
the  more  will  this  spirit  hate  and  pursue  you  and 
want  you  for  his  own.  Drive  him  forth  and  resist 
him.  .  .  .  There  is  a  spiritualism  (I  hate  the  word  !) 


Ube  ZTinfcUn0  ot  tbe  Camel's  JSell         767 

that  comes  from  God,  but  it  does  not  come  in  this 
guise.     This  sort  is  from  the  spirits  of  evil.'*1 

I  have  dwelt  on  this  side  of  Lady  Burton's  character 
in  order  to  contradict  many  foolish  rumours.  During 
the  last  years  of  her  life  in  England,  when  her  health 
was  failing,  she  was  induced  against  her  better  judg- 
ment to  have  some  dealings  with  certain  so-called 
"  spiritualists,"  who  approached  her  under  the  plea 
of  "  communicating  "  with  her  husband,  thus  appeal- 
ing to  her  at  the  least  point  of  resistance.  Lady 
Burton  told  her  sister  that  she  wanted  to  see 
u  if  there  was  anything  in  it,"  and  to  compare  it 
with  the  occultism  of  the  East.  In  the  course  of 
her  inquiries  she  unfortunately  signed  certain  papers 
which  contained  ridiculous  "  revelations."  On  thinking 
the  matter  over  subsequently,  the  absurdity  of  the 
thing  struck  her.  She  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
there  was  nothing  in  it  at  all,  and  that,  as  compared 
with  the  occultism  of  the  East,  this  was  mere  kinder- 
garten. She  then  wished  to  recall  the  papers.  She 
was  very  ill  at  the  time,  and  unable  to  write  herself; 
but  she  mentioned  the  matter  to  her  sister  at  East- 
bourne a  short  time  before  her  death,  and  said,  "  The 
first  thing  I  do  when  I  get  back  to  London  will  be 
to  recall  those  silly  papers."  She  was  most  anxious 
to  return  to  London  for  this  purpose;  but  the  day 
after  her  return  she  died.  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  at  once 
communicated  Lady  Burton's  dying  wishes  to  the 
person  in  whose  charge  the  papers  were,  and  requested 

1  Letter  of  Lady  Burton  written  from  Trieste  to  Mrs.  Francis  Joly, 
April  17,  1890. 


768       ttbe  "Romance  of  Isabel  Zaog  JBurton 

that  they  should  not  be  published.  But  with  a  dis- 
regard alike  for  the  wishes  of  the  dead  and  the 
feelings  of  the  living,  the  person  rushed  some  of 
these  absurd  "  communications "  into  print  w'thin  a 
few  weeks  of  Lady  Burton's  death,  and  despite  all 
remonstrance  was  later  proceeding  to  publish  others, 
when  stopped  by  a  threat  of  legal  proceedings  from 
the  executors. 

Early  in  1895  Lady  Burton  was  struck  down  with 
the  prevailing  epidemic  of  influenza ;  and  though  she 
rallied  a  little  after  a  month  or  two,  she  never  re- 
covered. She  was  no  longer  able  to  walk  up  and 
down  stairs  without  assistance,  or  even  across  the  room. 
Her  decline  set  in  rapidly  after  this  illness ;  for  the 
influenza  gave  a  fresh  impetus  to  her  internal  malady, 
which  she  knew  must  be  fatal  to  her  sooner  or  later. 
She  remained  in  Baker  Street  a  sad  invalid  the  first  six 
months  of  the  year,  and  then  she  recovered  sufficiently 
to  be  removed  to  Eastbourne  for  a  change.  It  was 
in  July  that  I  saw  her  last,  just  before  she  left  for 
Eastbourne.  She  asked  me  to  come  and  see  her.  I 
went  one  Sunday  afternoon,  and  I  was  grieved  to  see 
the  change  which  a  few  months  had  worked  in  her, 
She  was  lying  on  a  couch  in  an  upper  room.  Her 
face  was  of  waxen  whiteness,  and  her  voice  weak,  but 
the  brave,  indomitable  spirit  shone  from  her  eyes  still, 
and  she  talked  cheerfully  for  a  long  time  about  her 
literary  labours  and  her  plans  and  arrangements  for 
some  time  ahead. 

At  Eastbourne  she  took  a  cottage,  and  remained  there 
from  September,  1895,  to  March  21,  1896.  It  was 


zrinfUing  of  tbe  (Tamers  JSell         769 

evident  to  her  sister  and  all  around  her  that  she  was 
fast  failing  ;  but  whenever  she  was  well  enough  she  did 
some  work.  At  this  time  she  had  begun  her  auto- 
biography. When  she  was  free  from  pain,  she  was 
always  bright  and  cheerful,  and  enjoyed  a  joke  as  much 
as  ever. 

Early  in  the  New  Year,  1896,  she  became  rapidly 
worse,  and  her  one  wish  was  to  recover  sufficiently 
to  go  home.  One  of  the  last  letters  she  ever  wrote 
was  to  her  friend  Madame  de  Gutmansthal-Benvenuti : 

"  I  never  forget  you,  and  I  wish  our  thoughts  were 
telephones.  ,  I  am  very  bad,  and  my  one  prayer  is  to 
be  able  to  get  home  to  London.  The  doctor  is  going 
to  remove  me  on  the  first  possible  day.  I  work  every 
moment  I  am  free  from  pain.  You  will  be  glad  to 
hear  that  I  have  had  permission  from  Rome  for  Mass 
and  Communion  in  the  house,  which  is  a  great  blessing 
to  me.  I  have  no  strength  to  dictate  more."  l 

The  second  week  in  March  Lady  Burton  rallied  a 
little,  and  the  doctor  thought  her  sufficiently  well  to 
be  removed  to  London.  She  accordingly  travelled 
on  March  21.  She  was  moved  on  a  bed  into  an 
invalid  carriage,  and  was  accompanied  by  her  sister, 
who  never  left  her  side,  and  the  doctor  and  a  priest. 
She  was  very  cheerful  during  the  journey ;  and  when 
she  got  to  Victoria,  she  said  she  felt  so  much  better 
that  she  would  walk  along  the  platform  to  the  cab. 
Mrs.  Fitzgerald  got  out  first ;  but  on  turning  round 
to  help  her  sister,  she  found  that  she  had  fainted. 
The  doctor  administered  restoratives ;  and  when  she 
1  Holy  well  Lodge,  Eastbourne,  March  12,  1896. 

49 


770      tTbe  TRomance  ot  Isabel  Xafcg  Button 

;.  icic  'u.;....       jj  :t«  i  iiy»';y  ?  . 
had  recovered  a  little,  she  was  carried  to  a  cab,  and 

driven  to  her  house  in  Baker  Street..      -o 

Towards  the  evening  she  seemed  better,  and  was 
glad  to  be  back  in  her  familiar  surroundings  again. 
She  kept  saying  to  her  sister,  "Thank  God,  I  am 
at  home  again  !  "  She  had  a  haunting  fear  latterly  at 
Eastbourne  that  she  would  not  have  the  strength  to 
come  home.  By  this  time  it  was  of  course  known 
that  she  could  not  possibly  recover,  and  the  end  would 
only  be  a  question  of  a  little  time.  But  that  evening 
no  one  thought  that  death  was  imminent.  During  the 
night,  however,  she  grew  worse. 

The  next  morning  (Passion  Sunday,  March  22) 
her  sister  saw  a  great  change  in  her.  She  asked  her 
what  she  wished,  and  Lady  Burton  answered,  "  It 
depends  on  you  whether  I  receive  the  Last  Sacraments." 
The  priest  was  summoned  at  once,  and  administered 
Extreme  Unction  and  the  Holy  Viaticum.  She  fol- 
lowed all  the  prayers,  and  was  conscious  to  the  last. 
When  all  was  over,  she  bowed  her  head  and  whispered, 
"Thank  God."  A  smile  of  peace  and  trusting  came 
over  her  face,  and  with  a  faint  sigh  she  breathed  her 
last.  She  had  heard  the  "  tinkling  of  his  camel's  bell." 

TV          •>',  '••    -.f      .''.-;  *,!   .'-*T;    ". '),-;  •  -tir;?     -o-      .»  "'i-JTun     iUi*. 

She  was  buried  in  the  little  cemetery  at  Mortlake  one 
bright  spring  afternoon,  when  all  Nature  seemed  waking 
from  its  winter  sleep.  She  was  laid,  to  rest  in  the 
Arab  tent  by.  the  side  of  him  whom  she  had  loved  so 
dearly,  there  to  sleep  with  the  quiet  dead  until  the  great 
Resurrection  Day.  She  was  buried  with  all  the  rites 
of  her  Church.  The  coffin  was  taken  down  to  Mort- 


THE    ROOM    IN    WHICH    LADY    BURTON    DIED. 


THE    ARAB    TENT    AT    MORTLAKE.  [Page  no. 


TTbe  trtnftlina  of  tbe  Camel's  Bell         771 

lake  the  evening  before,  and  rested  before  the  altar  in 
the  little  church  all  night.  The  next  morning  High 
Mass  was  celebrated  in  the  presence  of  her  relatives 
and  friends  ;  and  after  the  Benediction,  the  procession, 
headed  by  the  choir  singing  In  Taradiso,  wound  its 
way  along  the  path  to  the  mausoleum,  where  the  final 
ceremony  took  place.  As  the  door  was  opened,  the 
camel  bells  began  to  tinkle,  and  they  continued  ringing 
throughout  the  ceremony.  They  have  never  rung 
since.  The  door  of  the  tent  is  now  closed,  and  on 
the.  opposite  page  of  the  marble  book  which  sets  forth 
the  deeds  and  renown  of  her  husband  are  written  these 
words  only : 

3 sabel  bte  Mife» 


INDEX 


ABD  EL  KADIR,  386,  396,  507 

Acre,  St.  Jean  d',  489 

Adelsberg  Caves,  the,  546 

Aden,  74,  570 

Alderley,   Dowager    Lady  Stanley 

of,  747 

Alexandria,  365,  621 
Alford,  Lady  Marian,  529 
Algiers,  694 

Almack's,  fancy  ball  at,  26 
Anthropological  Society,  dinner  to 

Burton,  230 
Anti-Lebanon,  371 
Antioch,  the  Patriarch,  Primate  of, 

432 

Arneh,  Druze  wedding  at,  453 

Arundell,  Blanche,  63,  88,  96,  556 

Blanche  Lady,  6,  439 

Mr.,  death  of,  684 

Mrs.,  her  opposition  to  Lady 

Burton's  marriage,  151  ;  her 
death,  530 

Arundells  of  Wardour,  family  his- 
tory, I-IO 

Austria,  Emperor  and  Empress  of, 
545  ;  the  Court  of,  545 


Auvergne,  Princess  de  la  Tour  d', 

361 
Ayde,  Sir  John,  68 1 

B 

BA'ALBAK,  430 
Bahia,  342 
Balme,  Col  de,  127. 
Barbacena,  281 

Vicomte  and  Vicomtesse,  259 

Beaconsfield,  Lord,  614,  621,  623 
Beatson,  General,  79 
Beaumont,  Lady  Margaret,  760 
Beg,  Omar,  412 
Beyrout,  367 
Bird,  Dr.,  155,  1 66 

Miss  Alice,  166,  689 

Bishop,  Miss,  683,  695,  751,  755 

Blanc,  Mont,  124 

Bludan,  427  et  seq. ;    news  of  the 

recall,  499 
Bologna,  639 
Bombay,  73;  journey  to,  554,  572; 

the  Towers  of  Silence,  586;  the 

HindQ  Smashan,  588 
.       Government  remove  Burtons 

name  from  Army  List,  175 


773 


774 


Boulogne,  life  at,  40  et  seq.,   555  ; 

last  visit  to,  691 
Brazil,  244  et  seq. 

• Emperor  and  Empress  of,  259 

British  Association  meeting  at  Bath, 

1864,  228 

Bull-fight  at  Lisbon,  a,  233 
Biilou-,  Madame  von,  552 
Burton,  Captain  St.  George,  747 
Byculla,  races  at,  576 


CAMERON,  Captain  Verney  Lovett, 

631,  635 
Candahar,  624 
Carnival  at  Venice,  114 
Carthage,  694 
Cazalem,  597,  599 
Cenis,  Mont,  ascent  of,  117 
Chambord,    Comte  de  (Henri  V.), 

113,  115,  610 
Chamounix,  124 
Chavannes,  Comtesse  de,  115 
Cheron,  Chevalier  de  St.,  113 
Chillon,  130 
Citta  Vecchia,  535 
Clarendon,  Lord,  352,  513,  623 
Clifford,  Isabel,  14 
Constable,  Sir  Clifford  and  Lady, 

157 

Copsey,  Mr.  Charles,  284 
Crawford,  Rev.  John,  522 
Cruz,  Santa,  198 

D 

DAHOME,  King  of,  226 

Damascus,  372,  375 

Dead  Sea,  483 

Derby,   Lord,    230,  508,   623,   693; 

and  Lady,  746 

Digby,  Hon.  Jane,  El  Mezrab,  393 
Lord,  393,  395 


Dublin,  229 

Dudley,  Georgina  Lady,  545 


EASTBOURNE,  768 

Eldridge,  Consul-General,  520 

Ellenborough,  Lady,  389,  393,  459, 
507 

Elliot,  Sir  Henry,  493,  522;  letter 
to  Lady  Burton,  516 

Elphinstone  Point,  593 

Entre  Rios,  275 

Eu,  Comte  and  Comtesse  d',  258 

Extreme  Unction,  Sacrament  of,  ad- 
ministered to  Sir  Richard  Burton, 
702,  706 


FERNANDO  Po,  175 
Fisherwomen  of  Boulogne,  the,  44 
Fitzgerald,  Mrs.,  15,  634,  746,  750, 

753,  767,  769 
Fiume,  546 
Florence,  no,  544 
Frankel,  Rev.  E.  B.,  $22 
Funchal,  189 
Furze  Hall,  17 


GENEVA,  120 

Genoa,  102 

Gerard,  Elizabeth,  14 

Lord,  8,  183,  355,  689 

Monica  Lady,  173 

Germany,   the    Empress  Frederick 

of,  545 

Ghazis,  the,  410 
Ghazzeh,  636,  638 
Gibraltar,  68 1 
Giram,  Cape,  193 


Snfcej 


775 


Gladstone,  Mr.  W.  E.,  551 

Goa,  594  et  seq.t  713 

Gobat,  Bishop,  481 

Golconda,  585 

Gordon,  General,  644,  645 ;  letters 

from,  646  et  seq. ;   his   death   at 

Kartoum,  644,  675 
Gordon,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  294 
Gorizia,  610 
Grant,  Colonel,  740 
Granville,  Lord,  456,  465,  508,  516, 

531,    532,   621  ;    his  reasons  for 

Burton's  recall,  520,  528 
Grindlay's  fire,  178 
Gutmansthal-Benvenuti,    Mme.    de, 

696,742,  755-  769 
Gypsy  forecast,  a,  21 


H 


HAMMERTON,  Colonel,  714 

Harar  in  Somaliland,  73 

Havre,  136 

Hawthorne,  General,  338 

Hay,  Sir  J.  D.,  680 

Henri  V.  (Comte  de    Chambord), 

113,  115,  610 
Honfleur,  137 

Houghton,  Lord,  177,  355,  551 
Howard,  Cardinal,  543 
Hunt,  Mr.  Holman,  481 
Hyderabad,  580  ;  the  Nizam  of,  580 

etseq. 


ICELAND,  529,  552 

Ideal  lover,  the,  37 

Ireland,  a  trip  to,  229 

Ismail,  Khedive,  and  the  Mines  of 

Midian,  610  et  seq.,  621 
Italy,  Queen  of,  558 


JAFFA,  367,  470 
James,  Miss,  522 
Jayrud,  407 
Jeddah,  563 
Jerusalem,  471 
Joly,  Mrs.  Francis,  767 
Jowett,  Professor,  551 
Juiz  de  F6ra,  277 
Jung,  Sir  Salar,  580 

K 

KARACHI,  730 
Karla  Caves,  578 
Karyatayn,  412 
Kazeh,  143 
Kebir,  Amir  el,  583 
Kennedy,  Mr.,  466 

L 

LAGC-A  DOURADA,  285 
Laguna,  200 
Lanauli,  578 
Lausanne,  131 
Layard,  Sir  Henry,  182 
Lebanon,  370 

Cedars  of,  432 

Lee,  Dr.,  284 
Leghorn,  no 

Leighton,  Sir  Frederick,  354,  376; 
his  picture  of  Sir  Richard  Burton, 

551 

Lentaigne,  the  convict  philanthro- 
pist, 229 

Leslie,  Dr.  Ralph,  688,  690 

Lever,  Charles,  530,  532,  580 

Levis,  Due  de,  115 

Lido,  the,  114 

Lipizza,  the  Emperor  of  Austria's 
stud  farm  at,  546 

Lisbon,  231 


776 


Llandaff,   Lord   (Mr.    Henry   Mat- 
thews), 548 
Lytton,  Lord  and  Lady,  233,  624 

M 

MACHICO,  192 

Madeira,  190 

Mahabaleshwar,  591,  593,  594 

Malta,  694 

Marianna,  302 

Marienbad,  631,  635 

Martelani,  Pietro,  709 

Matheran,  577 

Mattei,  Count,  639 

Meade,  Sir  Richard,  585 

Mecca,  69,  565,  713 

Midian,  the  Mines  of,  610,  621 

Mijwal,  Shaykh,  394 

Milan,  558 

Milnes,  Monckton  (Lord  Houghtou), 

81,  179 

Mitford,  Mr.,  468 
Monson,  Sir  Edmund,  699 
Montagu,  Lady  Mary  Wortley,  361 
Montanvert,  125 
Montreux,  692 

Mormons,  Burton's  book  on  the,  180 
Morocco,  643,  680,  682,  685 
Morro  Velho,  295  et  seq. 
Mortlake,  Lady  Burton's  cottage  at, 

752 
Cemetery,  228 ;   burial  of  Sir 

Richard  Burton,  746,  747 ;  burial 

of  Lady  Burton,  770 
Mukhtara,  449 
Murchison,  Sir  Roderick,  355 

N 

NAPIER,  Sir  Charles,  730 
Napoleon,  Louis,  396 
some  relics  of,  181 


Nazareth,  486 ;  the  riot  at,  487 
Nevill,  Major  and  Mrs.,  580 
New  Hall  (Convent),  17,  748 
Nice,  100 
Novikofl,  Madame  Olga,  631 


OBERAMMERGAU,  the  Passion  Play 

at,  623,  627 

Op9ina,  542 ;  ball  at,  627 
Orotava,  201 
Ouchy,  131 
"  Ouida,"  537,  544  , 
Ouro  Branco,  328 
Preto,  305 


PAGET,  Sir  Augustus  and  Lady,  543, 

639 
Palmer,  Mr.  E.  H.,  430 

Professor,  636 

Palmerston,  Lord,  177 

Palmyra,  403  et  seq. 

Paris,  97 ;  after  the  Franco-German 

War,    556;    Lady    Burton's   fall 

downstairs,  616 
Pasarni  Ghat,  592 
Perrochel,  Vicomte  de,  414,  421 
Perry,  Sir  William,  533 
Persigny,  Duchesse  de,  383 
Petropolis,  258,  273,  339 
Pico  Arriere,  193 
Pigott,  Mrs.  Smyth,  96,  751 
Pisa,  109 
Poissardes,  Carolina,  "  Queen  "  of 

the,  44,  58,  556 
Poonah,  579,  592 
Port  Said,  561 
Portugal,  a  trip  to,  230 
Procopio,  COTI.  Mariano,  277 
Prout,  Colonel,  659 


777 


QUEEN,  the,  makes  Burton 
K.C.M.G.,  682 ;  grants  pension  to 
Lady  Burton,  747 


RALLI,  Baroness  Paul  de,  706,  709 

Ramsden,  Lady  Guendolen,  758 

Reclus,  Elis6e,  692 

Richards,  Mr.  Alfred  Bates,  605 

Rio  de  Janeiro,  244 

Riviera,  the  earthquake  in  the,  1887, 

687 

Rome,  544 

Rosebery,  Lord,  685,  687 
Royal    Geographical    Society    and 

Speke,  144 

Russell,  Lady  John,  177 
Lord  John,  175,  227 


SAHARA,  315 

Safed,  491 

Salahlyyeh,  376,  454 

Salisbury,  Lord  and  Lady,  614,  623, 

682,  685,  687 ;  letters  from  Lady 

Salisbury,  618,  622,  693 
Santos,  230,  248 
Sao  Joao,  283 

Paulo,  248 

Scented   Garden,    The,    696,    698 ; 

truth  about,  719  et  seq, ;  burning 

of,  726 

Schwartzenburg,  Prince,  393 
Scott,  Rev.  J.  Orr,  522 
Seao,  Senhor  Nicolao,  334 
Shazlis,  the,  496,  521 
Sitt  Jumblatt,  the,  449 
Smith,  Mr.  W.  H.,  623 ;  letter  from, 

623 
Somerset,   Duke   and   Duchess  of, 

552,  758 


Spain,  Maria  Theresa,  ex-Queen 
of,  547 

Speke,  Lieut.,  73,  140-144,  228,  355, 
740 

Spezzia,  107 

Stafford,  Lord,  468 

Stanhope,  Lady  Hester,  361,  393, 
426 

Stanley,  Lord,  230,  351 

Stisted,  Lady,  745 

Miss,  393,  745 ;  her  impeach- 
ment of  Lady  Burton,  510  et  seq., 
702,  736 

Suez,  602,  612 

Swinburne,  Algernon,  354 

Symmonds,  Mr.,  302 


TABUT  or  Muharram,  Feast  of,  575 
Tanganyika,  Lake,  142 
Tangiers,  683 
Tenerifle,  198  et  seq. ;  the  Peak  of, 

210 
Thornton,  Sir  Edward  and   Lady, 

247 

Tiberias,  Lake  of,  491 
Treloar,  Captain,  301,  338 
Trieste,  531,  ^^etseq.,  (xt^etseg., 

616  et  seq. ;  Burton  a  confirmed 

invalid,  689  ;  his  death  at,  700 
Tunis,  694 
Tupper,  Martin,  619 
Tyrwhitt-Drake,   Mr.  Charles,  473, 

546,  547 

U 

USAGARA  Mountains,  141 


VARDEN,  Dr.,  490 
Vaughan,  Cardinal,  709 


778 


Snfcej 


Veldes,  630 

Venice,  112,  533,  559;  Geographical 

Congress  at,  631 
Vevey,  130 
Vienna,  544 

W 

WAHI,  592 

Wales,  the  Prince  of,  585,  687 

Wali,     the,     372,     391,    392;     his 

daughter's    wedding,    459,    464; 

his  dispute  with  Burton,  517 
Warren,  Sir  Charles,  638 
Waterton,  Canon,  743,  760 


Wikar  Shums  Ool  Umara,  the,  582 
Wilson,  Miss  Ellen,  435 

Sir  Andrew,  660 

Windsor,  Lady,  760 
Wiseman,  Cardinal,  713 
Wright,  Rev.  W.,  522 
Wuld  Ali,  461 
Wurtemberg,  Duke  of,  560 


ZEBEDANI,  437 

Zeller,  Mrs.  Van,  15,  754 

Zenobia,  419 


G 


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